


Playing Games

by bornonthewrongside



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Feels, Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-12
Updated: 2016-05-15
Packaged: 2018-04-04 01:13:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 59,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4120906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bornonthewrongside/pseuds/bornonthewrongside
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sansa's family has given her unending grief for not being in a serious relationship, even though she has reached high in the workplace. To get them off of her back, she creates a "fictitious man", the perfect guy, so they would stop pestering her, but when they ask for his name, she panics, and tells them that his name is Sandor. Only, Sandor is her neighbor, one whom she loathes, he's rude, a brute, and just plain mean.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I Hate You, But I'm Polite

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wajuuniverse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wajuuniverse/gifts).



“Yes, mom. No, Mom. Okay, I need to go to work now. Mom, no. Yes, I am planning on coming up for the week. Mom. Bye, love you too.” Sansa slammed her phone down at her desk, and rubbed at her eyes. Then promptly remembered she was wearing mascara, and cursed to herself.

“What else can go wrong? Honestly, what else?” Sansa mumbled to herself, and made her way from her office to the bathroom, smoothing out her bright yellow dress, and fixing the pins in her fiery red hair. 

In the mirror, the black from the make up made it look like she had been punched in the face, perfect, just what I need before a meeting. And the fluorescent lights didn't help any.  Carefully, she smudged out her eyes until it looked like she did a smokey eye. She prayed it worked, because this meeting was really important.

Sansa had worked her way up from being a lowly intern to the communications manager at Tyrell Blooms Inc. She had dealt with copious amounts of bullshit and sexism in the workplace, and it had taken her almost seven years, but now she was the boss; she held the final say.

She loved her job, she did. Her family on the other hand, did not. They were happy for her, of course. She had succeeded in the workplace, but in their eyes she had failed in her personal life.

She was only 26, but they were acting as if she were an old maid. _Ridiculous._ Sansa went on dates, to be sure. She tried, she really did. But every date was a terrible disaster. One about a year ago spilled his drink on her on accident, and then proceeded to say it was her fault for not moving out of the way. Another, three months after the first, took her to go see a movie, and he let her pick. She chose the horror of the week, and it turned out he was quicker to frighten than she was, because he proceeded to wet his pants twenty minutes into the film.

The latest, a couple weeks ago, left her halfway through the date because his cat sitter called him with a dire emergency, leaving her with the bill.

Dating was off the table for now. But her family couldn’t take that news, so she had been telling them about this fantastic man she’s been seeing. He was tall, and muscular, and kind. He worked as a construction foreman, and he was smart.

He was completely made up, but the only who knew that was Arya. And Arya would never tell. _I hope_ , Sansa thought to herself.

Strolling into the conference room, Sansa put a smile on her face, and greeted the staff she was to work with over the next weeks for their new marketing campaign.

“Myranda, could you get me the latest file please?” Sansa smiled to her assistant, _Gods! She loved having an assistant._

She turned to the rest of the room, “Welcome. Now we have to go through a lot of stuff, and then we can deal out our individual assignments, and then we can regroup. I have been told by Olenna herself, that if this marketing plan doesn’t make Tyrell Blooms the biggest and best…”

  
Sansa continued into her typical introduction of the new marketing plan, because they always needed to be bigger and better than anything else in the world. Not that there was much competition in world wide floral industries, but Sansa made sure they were the best. And so they stayed.

***

As Sansa walked down the crowded street to her apartment, a smile burst through her lips. The meeting had gone perfectly, and she had set up several new dates for Olenna. She was having dinner with Marge tonight, and the sun was shining.

She smiled hello at several people as she walked up the steps to her apartment when she began to hear the chirping of birds flow from her purse. Lovely.

She let out a deep sigh, before smiling once more. “Hi, mom!”

“Honey, you didn’t answer any of my calls!” Catelyn never understood the idea that Sansa’s phone was turned off the moment she stepped into a conference room.

“I was in a meeting, mom. I told you.” Sansa looked up at the ceiling as she walked up another flight of stairs. _Gods help me._

“I know, I know. I’m sorry. But I have to know how that date went with… well you never told me his name. It has to be getting serious, doesn’t? It’s been what thirteen dates? That’s thirteen weeks.” Her voice raised in pitched with every sentence.

Sansa rounded the corner on her floor towards her apartment, when to her dismay she saw him standing by the windows. Sandor Clegane, the rudest, most vile, abrasive man she’s ever met. He heard her footsteps and turned around to give her a quick glare. He then pushed himself from the window pane he was leaning against to saunter his way over.

“You left your music on again.” He crossed the tree trunks that he called arms across his chest.

“Mom, hold on.” Sansa spoke into her phone, and then glared up at him. She hated that she had to look up at him. For a female, she was tall, but this man just just a giant. “What did you say?”

“You. Left. Your. Music. On.” He enunciated each word, to mock her.

She strained her ears to see if she could hear anything, and sure enough, her annoyingly peppy wake up playlist was blaring in her bathroom. Which had the same wall as his. “Sorry, I’ll try to remember to turn it off tomorrow.”

She gave him her _I-Hate-You-But-I’m-Polite-So-Go-Away_ smile, and pushed through her door. Sansa put her phone back to her ear. Catelyn had been talking the whole time.

“... should really know. I am your mother. And if you two have been seeing each other for over three months, I just want to know. Sansa, do you not love me? Am I not privileged to know who my own daughter is seeing? Arya said she knows your secret, so why can’t I know? Sansa, please-”

“Sandor.” Sansa blurted, and then immediately bit on her tongue.  _Oh gods, why did she say his name? His. Name._

“Oh, that is a beautiful name. See it wasn’t that hard. Oh I like that name. You’re bringing him up with you aren’t you?”

Sansa dragged a hand over her face, cursing herself. “No, mom. That’s not a good idea. That’s really not a good idea. I think it’s just going to be me, this year.”

“Again.” Catelyn muttered.

“Yes, mother, again.” Sansa kicked off her shoes, and went to pour herself a drink. Gods knew she needed one.

“But it’s just that your father has been dying to meet him.”

“No, no hasn’t.”

“Oh, yes he does. I want to meet him, and Bran and Rickon are going to be so bored without another guy around. You know because Robb, and Jon aren’t coming. And it would be so nice to meet someone from your personal life-”

“Fine! Gods mother, fine. I’m hanging up now, bye.” Sansa threw her phone onto the counter, and took a swig straight from the bottle.

_This is not good. This is not good at all. Shoot. Frick. No. Nope. She wasn’t going to do it. She would get food poisoning. The flu. Or the bubonic plague. No. This was not happening._

Sansa was on the verge of truly freaking out when a knock sounded on her door. Groaning, she dragged herself, along with the bottle of bourbon with her. She looked through the peephole to see a hooked nose, and steel grey eyes staring into the wood.

Yanking the door open, she glared at him, “What?”

“I heard my name. And then a groan. What did I do this time Little Bird?” He doled out the name as a fake endearment.

She looked over him, and took a gulp of the amber alcohol. “Don’t flatter yourself. Don’t you have some children to torture? Some kittens to kidnap?”

He laughed, and gave her a sincere smile, “Whatever,” And he turned back towards his door.

Buzzing could be heard from her counter, “Gods be merciful, I will kill that woman with this phone.”

She walked over to read the message that her mother left her, “If you think you can get food poisoning. to get out of this, think again. You used that one last year. Love you!”

Groaning again, Sansa looked up at the ceiling and then to the open door. _You cannot be serious Sansa Stark_ , she thought to herself.


	2. You, My Love, Are Screwed

Margaery’s bright office clashed against Sansa’s mood. The yellows and the pinks contrasted with the greys and blues she felt. Sitting in the chair next to the window, Sansa bit at her lip, hesitating to tell Marge about her latest mess up. 

 

The two of them, Sansa and Margaery, had been best friends since college. Marge was the reason Sansa even got the internship at Tyrell Blooms. Together they got into trouble, picked each other up, tore each other down. They were there for each other. They always did their best to help, and Sansa  really  needed help. 

 

“Sansa, what are so worried about? You’ve dealt with your asshole family before. They know you’ll find someone eventually; you don’t even need a man. You have your career; it’s not like your eggs drying up.” Marge walked in, standing tall in her favorite pink Mary-Jane heels, which in all honesty, made her legs look fantastic. Her brown hair cascaded over one shoulder, and her make up looked like she was more ready for the runway than a board meeting. 

 

“It’s not that…” Sansa stood, and poured herself a cup of coffee. She didn’t normally drink caffeine, but seeing as she only slept a total of twenty minutes last night, she would make an exception. Worry, and Sandor’s music next door were the reasons she couldn’t sleep.  That freaking man.

 

“I got it!” Marge practically bounced up and down. “Tell your family your gay. You and me. We’ve been dating this whole time. Let’s get married.” 

 

“Margaery, this is serious.” Sansa gulped down the disgusting brown liquid. 

 

“Okay,” Marge flattened her features. “Serious. What did you do this time?” 

 

“You know how you told me to make up a guy, just to get my mom off my back?” 

 

“Of course, I am proud of that little trick. It worked didn’t it?” Marge smiled at her best friend. 

 

“It worked… a little too well. You know I hate lying. And when I do lie, no good ever comes from it. So it  just kind of grew. And now my mom expects me to bring him next week.” 

 

Margaery choked on her coffee, “Sansa! You didn’t. You could have said you broke up! He cheated on you. You cheated on him! Anything.” 

 

“That’s not the worst part. Remember when I didn’t tell my mother the guy’s name, because that would have been a really big lie and I couldn’t really do it. And-”

 

“Get to the point, Stark.” 

 

“I said his name was Sandor.” 

 

Margaery set down her coffee, “You said his name was Sandor? As in Sandor Clegane?” 

 

Sansa looked down at her feet, “Maybe…”

 

“You, my love, are screwed.” 

 

“Maybe. Just maybe, I can possibly convince him. I can pay him.” Sansa looked at her best friend with panic. 

 

“He’s not going to take your money, but he would take your dignity…” 

 

***

 

Two days later, Sansa stood outside of Sandor’s door with an over sized basket of various baked goods, alcohol, and a book on grilling (He seemed like a guy who would grill.) balanced on her hip. She used her free hand to pull a few stray curls away from her face, and then smoothed down her dress for the thirtieth time. Then with much hesitation, Sansa knocked three times. 

 

In just a few moments the door was pulled open by a half naked Sandor. Sansa had to bite down on her tongue to keep from gaping at the expanse of his chiseled chest.  Whoa, muscles,  were the only two words that came to Sansa’s mind. 

 

“Can I help you?” His deep voice pulled her out of the fog. He looked annoyed, but also curious as to why she came bearing gifts. “Did you get the wrong door, Little Bird?” 

 

“I… I brought you a proposition.” She tried holding out the basket, but it was too heavy to hold straight out. It would have gone crashing to the floor if Sandor hadn’t caught the handle. 

 

“Seven hells, did you put the whole bakery in here?” He looked through the basket more in depth, “And the whole bar?” 

 

“There are peanut butter, sugar, chocolate chip, frosted cookies, and brownies, and cakes. Lemon Cakes too. I didn’t know if you liked vodka, or bourbon, or whiskey, or just beer, so I put them all in there.” Sansa said this while trying to avoid her gaze from his very broad, and very nice chest. 

 

“What is this about? What do you want?” He looked at her skeptically. 

 

“May I come in?” She wrung her hands together. 

 

“No.” He said, and walked away. She couldn’t help but notice the back muscles.  _ Wow. _ Leaving the door open, she could see into his apartment. It was surprisingly clean. A lot of greys, more black, but with random pops of yellow. 

 

He turned back around, and gave her an odd look, “Are you going to stand there all day?” 

 

“Oh,” she hadn’t realized that had been an invitation. Slowly she stepped through door frame as if the floor was made of glass. 

 

“Take a seat,” Sandor motioned to the living room, where there was a black leather coach, and a dark grey recliner.  I was not expecting this.  He was rummaging through the basket, and making sounds of pleasure when he found something he liked. 

 

Sansa took a seat on the couch, and played with the ends of her hair.  _ Can this please be done? _

 

He walked around the couch, setting a glass of amber liquid in front of her, and then took a seat in the chair across from the couch.  _ That was polite _ .  “What is this about?” 

 

“Well, something’s come up. And I have a favor to-” She couldn’t finish her sentence because his laughter was too loud. 

 

“You want a favor? You’re fucking kidding, right? You have to be kidding.” He looked at her, and burst into laughter. 

 

“What did I do to make you you hate me? Honestly.” Sansa squinted her eyes at him, and tossed her hair behind her shoulder. 

 

“Nothing. What’s the favor?” 

 

“What are you doing next week?” Sansa bit her lip. 

 

“What?” Scrunching his eyebrows, Sandor tried to process what she said. 

 

“Bear with me. Do you have  anything  at all next week?” 

 

“Why are asking me this?” 

 

“I have to go to my family retreat thing, and I may have accidentally told my mother you and I were dating.” She didn’t breathe throughout the whole sentence. 

 

The silence in the air hung around Sansa like a dead weight. He just stared at her, mouth agape. When she was about to say something else, he burst out into laughter. 

 

The laughter turned into cackles, and the cackles then turned into snorts, and finally the snorts turned into wheezes. “You. Fucking. Didn’t.” 

 

Sansa’s skin burned with embarrassment. Sandor’s skin was red with oxygen deprivation. 

 

“Sansa Stark, what in the seven hells is wrong with you?” Sandor downed the contents of cup, and then laughed some more. 

 

“I can pay you.” 

 

He stopped laughing immediately. “For what?”

 

“If you would stop laughing for five seconds, I could finish my sentence.” She glared at him.  I will not beg.

 

“Okay, I’m serious now. Finish.” He leaned back in the chair. She noticed wisps of chest hair. 

 

“Every year my family goes up north to reconnect and stuff. And over the past couple of months, I made up this guy. This guy and I were dating, and some point I accidentally said his name was Sandor. And now my mom wants me to bring him up. And there is no saying no to her.” 

 

“You’re going to pay me to go up north with you, to be your boyfriend.” Sandor bit at the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling. 

 

“Yes. It’s six nights, seven days. I will pay you $700.” Sansa went into her pocket and pulled out cash. 

 

“Bloody hell. What the hell is wrong with you? Why don’t you lie some more and say we broke up?” 

 

He said we.  Sansa thought,  I can get him on the hook. 

 

“She wouldn’t believe me.” 

 

“But she would believe that you would be dating someone.” He looked at her incredulously. 

 

“Yes.” She said it like it was common knowledge. 

 

“Say you got food poisoning.” 

 

“Did that last time.” 

 

“The flu.”

 

“Time before last.”

 

“Seven hells, Stark. What is wrong with you? No. I’m not doing this.” He stood up as if this was final say. 

 

“No. Please, you have to do this. I need you to do this. Please, Sandor Clegane, if you have one kind bone in your body, you would do this for me.” Sansa stood up, and was inches from his face… in a way, her face was only up to his chin, so she was forced to look up to him. 

 

“No, I don’t. Get out of my house.” Sandor walked away, expecting Sansa to leave. 

 

“No.” Sansa sat down on his floor with a thud. 

 

“What?” He turned around, and exasperation was seeping from him. “Get out.” 

 

“No.” 

 

“Get out.” 

 

“Not until you agree.” 

 

“Are you five?” He took the drink he had originally gave to her, and drank it in one gulp. 

 

“Are you going to agree?” She crossed her arms indignantly, and pouted her lips. 

 

“Sansa Stark, get out of my house.” He took one step towards her, and then another. 

 

This time she ignored him. 

 

“I will forcibly drag you from my living room, Stark.” 

 

“You can try.” She looked at him.  _ This is war.  _

 

In less than a blink of an eye, he pounced on her. But she was fast, she rolled out of the way, and ran into his kitchen, using the island as an obstacle. 

 

“Sansa! Get the hell out of my kitchen.” He gripped the counter-top with long fingers, causing a ripple effect in his muscles. 

 

“Are you going to agree?” She blew hair out of her face, and smirked at him.  _ I have three older brothers, I can last longer than you. _

 

“No. Sansa, get out.” He was almost growling now. 

 

“Will-” She was interrupted by a diving Sandor. He jumped across the island, and now they were a mess of limbs on the tile of his kitchen. 

 

“Get off me, you brute.” She shrieked. 

 

“That’s fucking rich coming from you - ah! You bit me!” He struggled to get her under control. She latched herself onto his back, and as he stood to his full height, she didn’t budge. 

 

“Are you going to agree?” She wrapped her legs around his waist from behind, and squeezed. 

 

“Fine!” He said defeated. But he didn’t let her jump down yet. He made his way to the front door, and dropped her in the hallway. “You have some issues, Stark.” 

 

She stood, and looked at his shoulder where she bit him, “I’ll see you Sunday morning at 8. Be packed and ready.” She breathed in deeply, and nodded her head. 

 

She walked the few steps to her apartment, and before she went in, she looked at Sandor, who was still staring at her dumbfounded, and smiled a sincere smile, “Thank you.” 

  
He looked at her, and shook his head, and smiled back, “Didn’t give me much of a choice did you?” 


	3. I Can't Believe You Didn't Tell Me

“Myranda, I need you to have those files sent to me over the week. And you need to have HR talk to Loras. I’m leaving by five tonight, and I will not be in next week. But do not hesitate to call me.” Sansa stood at her desk, sorting through papers, trying to make sure the next week without her would go as smoothly as possible. 

 

“Sansa, your mother is on line two.” Miranda interrupted. 

 

“Tell her I’ll see her on Sunday.” Sansa picked up one of the proposals on her desk to look through it.  _ Crap, this is crap _ . 

 

“She said you will see her on Sunday, but you will talk to her now.” Myranda’s faced turned pink. 

 

“Okay, thank you. When you finished those messages you can leave for the weekend.” Sansa smiled at her, and fidgeted with her hair. 

 

“All right,” Myranda backed out of the office. 

 

Letting down her hair, Sansa breathed in deeply.  _ Why.  _ “Hello mother.” 

 

“Sansa sweetie. Did you tell Sandor that you’re going to be here on Sunday?” 

 

Sansa laughed to herself, remembering how she latched onto his back. “Yes, he definitely knows.” 

 

“Okay good, but could get here tomorrow?” Catelyn said it so nonchalantly. 

 

“Um, that would be a no.” Sansa looked up towards the ceiling. _Why does this always happen to me?_

 

“Oh, but sweetie, we found out Robb is going to be here, and we want an extra day with the whole family!” 

 

“I also have a job. And so does Sandor. We’ll be there on Sunday. And we’ll go to the beach, go on the lakes, fishing, soccer, drinking, eating. Really, we can fit all those in a week. It’s going to be great, mom.” 

 

“You actually sound excited!” Catelyn practically squealed. “Honey, Arya told me everything. And I just can’t contain myself-”

 

“Arya told you?” Panic shot straight through Sansa’s voice. “You’re not mad?” 

 

“Mad? I’m furious! I can’t believe you didn’t tell me. You used to tell me everything!” Catelyn’s voice raised in pitch. 

 

“Does this mean I’m not coming up this weekend?” Sansa was on the verge of tears; the only other time she got caught lying was when she was 17, trying to get some whiskey from her dad’s liquor cabinet. She ended up punishing herself, because her parents never actually found out. 

 

“What? Of course you are! My oldest daughter is  _ engaged _ _!_ I couldn’t be happier.” Sansa could hear the stifled giggles from the background. 

 

Deadpan, Sansa stared at her door. “Put Arya on,  _ now. _ ” 

 

“But Sansa, this is so exciting.” 

 

“ Now. ” 

 

The scratches of the phone being passed caused Sansa to pull the phone away from her ear. Without any hesitation she threw a stray paperweight from her desk at the door. 

 

“What’s up, sissypoo?” Arya laughed through the phone. 

 

“What? Why? Why Arya? You know-” Sansa couldn’t even get a coherent sentence out. 

 

“I know that this is exciting news. So completely unexpected. This seems as if it were a complete lie, right?” Sansa could practically see the smirk on her sister’s lips. 

 

“I am going to get you back. I will make you wish you were never born. You complete and utter… pompous jerk muffin!” Sansa clenched her teeth. 

 

“No need to thank me, sis. See you on Sunday- no, mom just said Saturday. So tomorrow. See you tomorrow, love!” Arya cackled as she hung up the phone. 

 

Sansa slammed the phone back onto its case, and then angrily pushed the button to get Myranda in the room, “Get me Margaery.  Now. ” 

 

“Yes, Ms. Stark.” 

 

Sansa angrily paced in her annoyingly bright office, cursing the existence of her little sister.  _ I will shave her head in her sleep. I am going chop off a finger. I am going to kill her. Ugh. _

 

After three minutes, Sansa yelled for Myranda again. “Where is Margaery? Get her.” 

 

“She’s in a meeting with her grandmother and brother right now. You said not to disturb if she’s in a meeting.”

 

“I’m overriding that. Get her. Tell her it has to do with A.S, and S.C. She’ll understand.  _ Now, get her. _ ”   Panic was really starting to set in her bones. 

 

After two more minutes, Sansa was getting ready to start threatening when Marge barged through the door. 

 

“What happened? What did Arya do?” Margaery put her hands on Sansa’s shoulders. 

 

“I’m engaged. I’m engaged to Sandor. Did you know that? I didn’t, he doesn’t. Arya does. Now my mother knows. Oh gods,” Sansa crumpled on the floor. “I’m engaged.” 

 

“Not for real though. Just, play it out. But, oh gods. How did your mom react?” Marge bit her lip. She knew how much Catelyn Stark loved weddings. 

 

“I’m pretty sure she already picked the flowers.” Sansa laughed. 

 

“Okay, we can do this. You and I can figure this out.” Margaery pulled one of the many rings off her finger, and handed it to Sansa. “This one’s expensive enough.” 

 

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Sansa grabbed the ring, and slid it onto finger. “He is going to freak out.” 

 

“Just don’t tell him until you’re half way there.” She smiled at her best friend. “It’s going to be okay. It’s only a week.”

 

“Say that to Sandor.” 

 

***

 

Margaery had basically pushed Sansa out of her office at five, and now, almost 6:30, Sansa stood in front of her closet trying to pack. She hated packing. Why couldn’t she just bring her whole closet? 

 

_ Why did I buy three new white shirts, when I already had four sitting in my closet? Who even needs three blue dresses? Hmm, I accidentally bought the same pair of shoes. _

 

Knocking at her front door brought her out of the fog of her closet. “Coming!” 

 

Walking barefoot across the hardwood, Sansa swung her hips in her little bright jungle themed shorts. Her was braided over her shoulder, and she answered the door expecting her chinese food, but instead saw Sandor. 

 

“Oh, you’re not Chinese.” She looked at him disappointed. She turned away heading back towards her room. 

 

“I’m actually Scottish.” He smirked at her. He was wearing his work clothes. He was either a contractor or a foreman, but Sansa couldn’t remember which. He had heavy steel-toed work boots on, and dirty dark-wash jeans, and a cut-off muscle shirt.  _ He does have muscles, I’ll give him that.  _

 

“Wonderful. And I’m Irish.” Sansa disappeared into her room, and began rummaging through her closet, looking for particular pair of black shorts. 

 

His heavy footsteps followed her, “Seven hells, Stark. Did you buy a damned mall? Is  there anything left at the store?” He picked one of the seven white shirts she had just been scrutinizing herself on. 

 

“Can you not?” She ripped the shirt from his grip. “You better have not gotten dirt on this. It costed me $20.” 

 

“You paid twenty fucking dollars for a shirt? What is wrong with you?” 

 

“What do you want Clegane? I’m sure you have better things to be doing.” Sansa pushed clothes into her duffel bag, and then random pairs of shoes. 

 

“What time are we leaving on Sunday?” He pursed his lips slightly and stared at her as she pushed even more clothes into her already filled duffel. 

 

“We have to leave by 8 tomorrow morning in order to beat traffic. And we’re engaged now.” Sansa didn’t look at him as she finally managed to get everything zipped. 

 

His next words were interrupted by knocking from the front door. 

 

“Oh, there’s the Chinese!” Sansa jumped, and skidded her away from the situation at hand, in search of food. Sandor couldn’t help but look at her legs as ran.  _ Nice _ ,  he thought. Then shook his head. 

 

He raked a hand over his face, then traced the outlines of faded scars.  _ What the hell did you get yourself into, Clegane? _

 

He walked out of her bedroom to see her smiling at the delivery boy, who looked pleased at the generous tip she had given him. 

 

“Do you want any Lo Mein? General Tso’s? Egg roll?” Sansa stuffed half an egg roll in her mouth. 

 

“What did you mean by a) we’re leaving tomorrow and b) we’re engaged?” Sandor helped himself to an eggroll. 

 

Sansa tried to talk, but her mouth was too full. And She just shook her head and shrugged her shoulder. 

 

“Quit the shit, Stark. What the hell did you do this time?” He accepted the plate she offered him, and the chicken she piled on his plate. 

 

“My sister said you and I were getting engaged… Surprise!” She held out her left hand. He saw a diamond ring. 

 

“Where the fuck did you get a ring?” He looked at the rock on that thing,  shit. 

 

“My friend had one I could borrow.” Sansa shrugged her shoulders again, and stabbed a piece of chicken with a chopstick. 

 

“Just had a diamond ring?” He looked at her suspiciously. 

 

“Yeah, anyway. My mother heard from my sister were getting married, and now my mom wants us there a day earlier for some reason.” She looked at him with a sort of desperation. 

 

He rolled his eyes at her, “And if I can’t leave tomorrow?” 

 

“I’ll attach myself to your back again.” She smirked and put her dish in the sink. 

 

‘Please don’t.” He rubbed the spot where she bit him, and grimaced. 

 

“Afraid of a little bird, Clegane?” Sansa took a swig directly from her milk carton. 


	4. What. Is. Your. Most. Embarassing. Moment.

The morning sun shone brightly on the buildings of the city, creating an optimistic glow. The smell of coffee seeped from cafes and homes. Honking of morning traffic carried across the roads, and through the streets. The trees and flowers were in full bloom at the corner of every intersection. 

 

Sansa loved the morning; everything was a fresh start. She had been awake since five, and she had two cups of coffee. Her long hair was put up into an “effortless bun”, even though it took for 25 minutes to perfect. She wore cheap flips flops, and a light blue summer dress. She was ready to start the day. 

 

The same could not be said for Sandor. He had woken up about twenty minutes ago, and barely looked human. His hair was spiked is a precarious fashion, and he wasn’t even wearing real clothes yet. He was halfway done with his first cup of coffee when Sansa knocked on his door. 

 

“Sandor,” Sansa called out through the door. 

 

“Go away.” He mumbled, raking a hand over his puffy eyes. 

 

“We have to leave in twenty minutes if we are going to beat the traffic.” Sansa sang through the door. 

 

“I’m going to go take a shower.” He stood up, and took off his shirt.

 

Sansa barged through the door, “We have to go in twenty minutes! We don’t - oh. Sorry.” 

 

He looked at her blushing complexion and smirked, “Just can’t get enough of this can you?” 

 

“Just hurry up, please. I need to get this week over with.” Sansa turned her head slightly so wouldn’t have to look at him in his “indecent” state. 

 

“It’ll take me five minutes, tops.” And with that he strolled out of the kitchen, whistling to himself. 

 

Sansa wandered around his apartment, appreciating the massive bookshelf opposite the kitchen. She hadn’t the chance to admire it last time she was in here; she giggled slightly as she remembered how she sat in the middle of his floor, refusing to budge. 

 

“Oh, gods. I’m an idiot.” She hid her face in her hand even though no one was there to share in her embarrassment. 

 

Slowly, she slipped off the cheap sandals and dug her toes into the soft, shaggy rug in front the bookcase. She sighed, then smiled. Looking over the books, she noticed some titles she’s read, some she knew but never read, and some that looked as if they were in another language. 

 

The sound of a door opening caused Sansa to jump, and then try to scurry away, which then resulted in her tripping over her own two feet. She landed with a loud thunk, and a smack to the head. 

 

“What in the seven hells are you doing, Stark?” Sandor walked out in a towel tied in a waist. He saw Sansa laying the ground, holding her head in her hand. He couldn’t help but notice her dress riding up slightly to reveal more of porcelain legs. He shook his head, and then tried to say something that she would have hated, but couldn’t do it. 

 

“Stark, are you okay?” He took a couple of steps closer then stopped. 

 

“I’m fine, I just tripped. I’ll be fine.” Sansa got into a sitting position. When she looked at him it was as if a train hit her gut. 

 

M _ uscles, and water. Wet muscles, in nothing but a towel. _ “ You really need to start wearing clothes; you’re making me sick.” 

 

“It’s not my fault you keep falling for me.” He retorted, and disappeared into his bedroom. 

 

“What? That’s not even fair!” She shouted back at him. “Ugh!” 

 

Twenty minutes later, the pair of them walked down to the parking level, and both went to their own vehicles. 

 

“Sandor, we’re taking my car.” Sansa popped open the trunk to her silver Prius. 

 

“Sansa, we’re taking my truck.” Sandor threw his bag into the bed of his Silverado. 

 

“No, I already have everything in here. It’s more gas efficient, and more comfortable. I packed snacks, and my GPS is synced.” Sansa continued to put her bags into her car. 

 

“You are forcing me on this trip. We are taking my truck.” Sandor walked over to Sansa’s car, plucked out her four bags from her trunk, and threw them into the bed. “Let’s go, princess.” 

 

“But…” Sansa pouted, “My GPS is -” 

 

“You have a phone?” Sandor grabbed the cooler out of her backseat and put it into his.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“There ya go. Now get your ass in the car.” Sandor slammed her trunk shut, and got into his truck. “Now.” 

 

“You can be awfully rude sometimes.” Sansa climbed into the truck, and awkwardly swatted a Big Mac container off the seat. 

 

“Get over it.” He put the car in gear, and they were off. 

 

The first half hour of the three hour car ride was ridden in complete silence, save the occasional electronic voice of the GPS on Sansa’s phone. 

 

The next 45 minutes after that Sandor turned on the radio, the soft blues of Louis Armstrong hummed throughout the cab of the truck. 

 

“You like Jazz?” Sansa side-glanced at him. 

 

“I can’t have musical tastes?” Sandor laid an arm lazily over the wheel, and the other rested near the gear-shift. He raised his eyebrows when he glanced at her through a pair of mirrored aviators. 

 

“No… it’s just that’s… weird. I’d take you for a rock ‘n roll guy.”

 

“What about you princess? You go for the Indie acoustic shit? Or are you a Top 40 kind of girl?” 

 

“I don’t really know,” Sansa scrunched her eyebrows. “I listen to everything. Except for country. I  _ hate _ country.” 

 

Sandor laughed, “So the sweet little bird hates something besides me, eh? Good to know.” 

 

“I never said I hated you. In the past, I have particularly cared for your attitude and your respect towards others.” 

 

“That is possibly one of the most pompous things I’ve ever heard you say.” 

 

And with that, their conversation ended before it really began. Though the radio was on, and the open windows created enough ruckus, Sansa couldn’t bear the silence. She rolled her window up, and then went for the radio slowly. When she finally clicked it off, Sandor looked at her. 

 

“What are you doing?” 

 

“We need to get to know each other.” 

 

“We do know each other.” 

 

“Not really. The only things I know about you are that you do something with construction, you like the color yellow, and you like Chinese food. That’s the basis of my relationship with you. Oh, and the fact you don’t like apologizing.” 

 

“You’re never going to forgive me for that, will you?” Sandor thought for a moment, and then looked very confused. “Why do you think my favorite color is yellow?” 

 

“It’s the only real color in your apartment, Sandor. Everything else is gray-scale.” She looked at him as if it were so obvious. 

 

“Well, what’s your favorite color?” 

 

“Grey.” Sansa smiled slightly. 

 

“No fucking way. No. You never wear grey.” Sandor tried using her logic on her, “You wear a lot of blue.” 

 

“Because it looks good with my hair, and it’s summer.” Sansa rolled her eyes. 

 

“Okay. What else do we need to know?” Sandor shrugged his shoulders.

 

“How old are you?” 

 

“33. You?” 

 

“26, going to be 27 in a couple of weeks.” Sansa smiled. “This might actually work for us. The age gap, I mean. My parents are going to  _ hate  _ it.” 

 

“Perfect. I didn’t know you were so young, Stark.” 

 

“I’m an adult, Clegane. Okay, what about your family?” 

 

“None. Next question.” He physically tensed up. 

 

“Alright,” Sansa bit her lip. “Um, what is your most embarrassing moment?” 

 

“What?” Sandor looked at her. 

 

“What. Is. Your. Most. Embarassing. Moment.” Sansa enunciated every word, loudly. 

 

“Letting you take me on this trip.” He deadpanned. 

 

“No, you have to be serious.” He ignored her. She then gripped his arm, “Please, I’ll tell you mine.”

 

“Sansa… please, no.” 

 

“Do it. Now.” Sansa poked at his arm. 

 

“Fine… one time at a bachelor party I did a … what-is-it-called… a strip tease to  Get Low .” 

 

Sansa stared at him with her mouth agape. “You did a… a strip tease?” 

 

The laughter was instantaneous. She could feel her cheeks getting fatigued, and her abs starting to hurt, but it was no use. She could not stop laughing.  _ Sandor Clegane did a strip tease to Get Low. He did a STRIP TEASE.  _

 

“You can stop now.” He glanced over, but he was smiling a bit as well. 

 

“No, I really can’t. I … can’t… may the seven have mercy. That is the funniest thing I’ve ever heard. Who’s bachelor party? Did you do it solo, or was it a group ensemble? Tell me everything. Everything, Sandor Clegane, everything.” 

 

“It was for my friend Bronn. And it was… well, it started out group, but went to solo very very quickly.” He started laughing himself. “I was more than a little drunk. And it was a party after all.” 

 

“Wh- I don’t have any words.” Sansa wiped tears from her eyes. 

 

“What about you? Can you live up the terrible man stripping to a bad rap song?” 

 

“No, most definitely not.” Sansa shrugged down in her seat, kicked off her sandals, and rested her feet up on the dash. 

 

“You promised.” Sandor glared at her. 

 

“Fine… one time, back when I was still in high school, my sister, who was a freshman at the time, to sneak out with her. She said it was party at a lake, which seemed like a lot of fun, you know? I was a senior, and never really done anything fun. So I was sneaking out of my window in my bikini and cover up, and my dad hadn’t told us he redone the security system so it also went through our windows.” 

 

“Hurry up.” Sandor glanced at her, looking annoyed she hadn’t gotten to the point already. 

 

“So when I finally managed to get my screen off, and the window pried open, our loud, very loud, security system went off. It scared me so much that I would have fallen out of the window if my leg hadn’t gotten caught in the blinds. The whole neighborhood got up to see what the commotion was about, and they saw me, dangling from my window in my bikini. Arya still has the photos. And my ankle was sprained.” Sansa face was terribly red, and Sandor laughed. 

 

“Mine was better, but damn. You’re an idiot, Stark.” Sandor smiled at her, and pulled up to a gas station. 

  
“Yours was definitely better. But look we already killed two hours. Only one more to go until we enter the week of hell.” Sansa smiled, and leaned her head back. 


	5. How Did I Let Myself Get Into This Mess?

Sandor leaned back as he drove through small towns, and over major highways. The sun was now hanging high in the sky, creating a glare off the pavement. Little cloud cover made the day twice as hot, and the moving air from the open window helped him stay awake. Sansa had long since fallen asleep in the passenger’s seat, softly mumbling to herself.

He glanced over at her; her long hair was falling from the knot on her head, and her sunglasses were hanging lopsided from her nose. She had tucked her legs under her body, and she looked completely contorted. That cannot be comfortable, he thought to himself. And her right hand was tucked under her chin, balancing precariously.

He kept glancing at her as he navigated the road. _How did I let myself get into this mess?_ Sandor shook his head, _better not to get into that now._

__

When the voice from Sansa’s phone mentioned something about 15 minutes from their destination, Sandor rolled up his window, and turned the music off.

“Sansa, wake up.” He whispered as he gently nudged her shoulder.

Sansa bolted upright, but was pulled back by her seatbelt. She looked around the cab of the truck. “What?” Her glasses still hung half off her face. “Where are we?”

Sandor had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing at Sansa. She looked like an alarmed chipmunk. “We’re almost to the cabin.”

“Oh,” Sansa rubbed the sleep out of her eyes, and the rubbed at her arms. The gooseprickles pronounced on her arms. Sandor reached to turn off the AC.

“Did you enjoy your nap?” Sandor smirked at her.

“Yes, actually. How long was I asleep for?” Sansa’s voice was still rich and foggy with sleep.

“Only an hour. You drool while you sleep.” Sandor barked a laugh when Sansa hand shot to her mouth, and rubbed at the nonexistent drool.

“I do not!”

“And you talk in your sleep. What was that about a giraffe in your garage?” He only laughed when she hit his arm.

“You are such a jerk.” Sansa glared at him.

“Sorry, Little Bird.” Sandor took a left, and then a right. “So is it on the left or the right?”

“Turn right up here, and it’s going to twist and turn for a while, but then our cabin will be on the left.” Sansa sat up, and watched the small shops pass by. She remembered practically growing up here; she and Arya would go to Creamery together, eat ice cream and watch boys. Her mother and her would go to the bead shops and buy necklaces and rings.

“Here?” Sandor interrupted her thoughts.

“Yeah,” She nodded, and lifted a hand scratch at her scalp. “Ugh! You could have told me my hair was falling out!”

“What?” Sandor looked over at her, “Oh, your hair is falling out.”

“Whatever.” Sansa huffed.

As she fixed her hair, Sandor pulled up into the driveway to see three dogs racing around each other, two boys sitting by the water, an older man grilling, about five cars parked in a row, and two boats. Chaos, Sandor thought to himself, this is complete and utter chaos.  

“You can go ahead and park next to the speedboat.” Sansa undid her seatbelt, but made no move to get out of the truck.

“What are you doing?” Sandor looked at her quizzically.

“Just wait,” Sansa held up three fingers, then two, then one. On cue, a water balloon exploded on the windshield.

“Bloody hell!” Sandor jumped. “What the hell was that?”

“That’s Arya.” Sansa said matter of factly.

“Is this how she greets everyone?” Sandor was confused.

“No, only me. And in about five seconds there is going to be another.” And five seconds later, another one splatter against the driver’s side window.

“She’s crazy isn’t she?” Sandor looked at Sansa for clarification.

“Probably.” And with that Sansa jumped out of the truck.

“Arya Stark! If you throw another one of those damned water balloons you be grounded for the rest of the week!” Catelyn Stark walked out of the house onto the porch. She held an air of authority around her. Her hair was red like Sansa’s, only slightly duller, and it was pulled back into a ponytail to reveal a porcelain complexion just starting to wrinkle.

From somewhere up above, a voice called back, “You can’t ground me! I’m twenty years old!”

Catelyn looked up, and closed her eyes. She then looked at Sansa, and her face lit with joy.

Sandor watched as Catelyn made her way to Sansa, “Oh sweetheart! I’ve missed you so much!” She wrapped her arms around Sansa, and held her close. She blinked her eyes a couple times, and Sandor could see tears in her eyes.

Sandor got out of the truck, and awkwardly stood there watching the two of them. Catelyn looked over at him, and smiled a very genuine smile. Sansa has her eyes.

“Oh, Sansa! How rude am I being? This must be your fiance, Sandor, is it?”

“Yes,” Sansa struggled with the word. “Yes, this is my fiance, Sandor. Sandor, this is my mother, Catelyn.”

“You can go ahead and call me Cat. It is so nice to finally meet you! I have heard so many great things about you from Sansa.” Cat shook his hand, and then pulled him in for a hug.

“Has she now?” Sandor smirked at Sansa. And Sansa blushed deeply.

“Oh, of course. She didn’t say anything about you being so tall though.” Cat laughed, and started making her way back to the house. “Lunch will be ready in fifteen minutes!”

“I’m too tall?” Sandor whispered to Sansa.

“Oh, no. No, she was always worried that I would never find someone tall enough. Because I’m really tall for a girl. You know?” Sansa fidgeted with her fingers as she scanned the yard.

“You are?” Sandor raised an eyebrow, then looked down at her. “But you’re short.”

“Just because you’re a giant doesn’t mean I’m a midget.” Sansa rolled her eyes at him.

“Shut up, Stark.” Sandor walked back around the truck, getting ready to grab their bags when another water balloon hit three inches from his face. “Bloody fucking hell!”

Laughter erupted from a nearby tree. Sandor looked around, not sure which direction it had come from.

“Arya! Get out! Now!” Sansa screamed in no direction in particular.

In seconds, a flash of black dropped from the oak tree next to the house. “You are no fun. Mrs. Clegane.”

Sandor hadn’t been sure what he was expecting, but this was not it. She had dark brown hair with random streaks of purple, pink. blue, green, and even a white one. She was in black boots, and denim shorts, and her shirt read “Hungry like the Wolf.” And one of her legs was covered in tattoos. along with the upper half of her right arm.

“Arya, shut up.” Sansa glared at her sister. Sandor had to do a double take at sweet, clean  Sansa and then at dirty, gruff Arya. There was no way these two were related.

“Lighten up, Sansa. I’m not going to spill your dirty little secret.”

“Is that why you said Sandor and I were getting married?” Sansa looked livid; she clenched her fists, and her nostrils were flaring.

“Relax! Mom overheard us on the phone one night, and she heard me say I wasn’t going to tell her your secret, and I had to do something. I could tell the truth. Right now.” Arya looked at her sister, and then yelled, “Mom! Sansa wants to tell you  so-”

She was cut off by Sansa covering her mouth with her hand. “Shut up!”

Arya then bit Sansa’s hand. “Ow! What is wrong with you?”

“Love you, big sis.” Arya turned, and climbed back up the tree.

“Love you too.” Sansa said grudgingly.

“So…” Sandor said, holding up the bags. “Do I just ignore that whole thing or…?”

Sansa breathed in deeply. “Forget that ever happened. Let’s go into the house. I’m starving.”

“This is going to be the weirdest week ever.” Sandor mumbled to himself as he hauled the bags up the steps.

****  
  


***

Sandor set the bags in a room with a lot of windows, and only one bed. The windows faced the lake, and the bed faced the windows. The floor was hardwood, and the walls were a light lilac. There were photo of Sansa and her family lining the walls, but Sandor really only focused on the bed.

“Sansa, there’s only one bed.” Sandor looked at Sansa with raised eyebrows.

“There should be a blow up mattress under the bed.” Sansa was too busy searching through her bags to pay Sandor any mind.

With a huff, Sandor began looking under the bed, but could only find dust and old board games. “There’s nothing of use under here.”

“It should be near the headboard.” Sansa was still searching through her bags.

“I’m telling you, it’s not under here.” Sandor stood up from the hardwood floor, looked at Sansa scrunched over her bags, and then looked out over the lake. _Nice view._

“Ugh,” Sansa crawled over to the bed, and looked under it. “What? What? Where is it?”

“Where is what?” Catelyn appeared in the doorway. She was smiling at them, and holding an extra quilt.

“The blow up mattress.” Sansa stood up, and took the quilt from her mother.

“Oh, Bran and Rickon are using it. They wanted to sleep out in the tree fort because they think it’s ‘lame’ to sleep in the house. I figured you two would be sleeping in the same bed, you know being, “ her smile widened, “ _engaged_ and all.”

“Right, but you see Mrs. Stark -”

“Cat, please.”

“Cat, Sansa is a terrible bed hog, and I always end up on the floor.” He was cut off again by Sansa hitting him in the gut.

“Oh. I’m sure that’s just an exaggeration. Sansa’s always sleeps curled into a ball.” Catelyn smiled, and walked out.

“Really? Really?” Sansa glared at him. “I can just sleep on the floor. You jerk.” Sansa threw the blanket at him.

“No, you’re not going to sleep on the floor. You can sleep in the bed, I’ll take the floor.”

“No. Really, I don’t mind. I can take the floor.” Sansa threw a couple of blankets and pillows on the floor to make it final. “Now, come on. We have to meet the rest of the family.”

“Oh, joy.” Sandor muttered as he followed Sansa out of the room to the dining room.

 


	6. I Never Sleep With A Shirt On

“Sandor, there’s a seat next to Ned.” Catelyn was circling around everyone, making sure they all had enough food and drink.

“I’m fine over here,” Sandor stood by the archway of the dining room, drinking his beer. He looked over all the Starks, trying to keep track of who was who. Robb stood off to the side with Joe. No his name was… Jon. Robb was talking with Jon. Bran and Rickon were playing video games in the room adjacent the dining room. Arya sat at the table, and was talking with Sansa; they were laughing over something, and kept looking towards him. Lastly, Catelyn sat next to Ned, heaving a sigh.

“Long day sweetheart?” Ned laughed as he brushed stray pieces of hair from her cheek.

“Longest, but we’re all here now, so that’s what is important.” She smiled and looked at Sandor again.  “Come sit. Now.”

“I’m really -”

“Clegane. Don’t be rude.” Sansa glared at him. She then softened her face when she the look her mother gave her, “Why don’t you come sit by me, sweetie?”

“I’d love to, Little Bird.” He sat down in the empty chair next to Sansa, and lightly kicked her leg, causing her to jerk, and spilled some of her drink.

“Sansa, what is wrong with you?” Catelyn passed her a napkin.

“Oh, I suddenly got an itch. Sorry.” Sansa glared at Sandor when her mother wasn’t looking.

“So, Sandor,” Robb sat at the other end of the table, Jon following. “How long have you know Sansa?”

“Going on three years.” Sandor leaned back in his chair, and noticed Sansa tensing up.

“Three years?” Cat piped up. “How did I just hear about you two?”

“We’ve known each other, Mom, we only just started… dating a couple months ago.” Sansa patted her hand awkwardly on Sandor’s thigh.

“Yeah,” Arya smiled at the two of them. “How did you two meet?”

“That’s a funny story actually.” Sandor laughed, and ignored Sansa’s dirty look.

“It’s not really. We live in the same building. End of story, right Sandor?”

“Oh, no it’s not. Don’t you remember how got locked out of your apartment?” Sandor smiled to himself as he remembered the day. It was the first month Sansa moved into the building, and she hadn’t realized the doors shut on their own.

“We can just not say anything.” Sansa’s voice was tight, and her eyes pleaded with him.

“She had just taken a shower, and she didn’t understand how doors work apparently.” Sandor was already giggling to himself.

“Oh my gosh! I’ve heard this before! Sansa was only in her towel, and she was locked out of her apartment for two hours  before she could back in!” Arya was laughing while she said, but Catelyn got a mortified look on her face.

“You were in a hallway for two hours before you got back inside?”

“It was more like an hour and a half. And I think I was wearing a robe, actually.” Sansa’s cheeks turned a deep red.

“Oh, I would have remembered if you were wearing a robe.” Sandor laughed, but faded off when he saw Robb’s and Jon’s faces.

“That’s my little sister you’re talking about.” Robb deadpanned.

“Oh. Look, man-” Sandor stumbled over his words, but stopped Jon burst into laughter.

“We’re just kidding. Sansa can be an idiot sometimes, and that sounds like something she would do.”  
  


“Hey!” Sansa threw a bread roll at her brothers. “Can we stop? Seriously?”

“No, finish the story Sandor.” Arya sat at the edge of seat.

“Um, okay.” Awkwardly, Sandor took a swig of his beer, not sure if they would get mad at him or not. “So, I just got off work, long day. I was pissed because traffic was horrible, and I was sweaty and dirty.”

“He was. It was disgusting.” Sansa chirped.

He gave her a side glance, “Anyway. So I just walked up five flights of stairs because the elevator was out, again, and I see this twenty-something girl sitting outside my door in nothing but a towel. Her hair was still dripping wet, and she was just looking through her mail, as if nothing were amiss.”

Catelyn giggled, and Ned had a smile on his face.

“Just for the record, I tried getting into my apartment before that, and also tried all the neighbors but nobody was home. No way I was going down the stairs like that.” Sansa bit into a roll, and looked each member of her family and Sandor in the eye, “It could happen to anyone.”

“It really couldn’t,” Sandor barked out a laugh. “So, I just walk into the hallway, see this little bird singing to herself while she’s flipping through Cosmo or whatever. She see’s me, and gets up hurriedly, and just says “Thank the gods! I thought I thought I would have to wait for the scary neighbor!”” Sandor did horrible impression of Sansa’s voice.

****  
  


Sansa then hid her face in her hand as her family laughed, “I was cold and tired, and all I wanted was to get back into my house.”

“Clarification,” Sandor said, “I was the scary neighbor.”  

‘What happened next?” Cat asked.

“I asked her who the scary neighbor was, and she said “I don’t know what he looks like, but he lives in the apartment right next me.” That’s when I decided to open my door, and the look on her face was priceless. Her entire body flushed red.” Sandor looped an arm around Sansa’s neck, and pulled her closer. “Who knew the little bird could be such an ass right?”

“Excuse me?” Ned sat up, and eyed Sandor.

“He’s just joking, Ned. Calm down.” Catelyn sent him a sympathetic smile. “Right, Sandor?”

Sansa turned her head into Sandor’s shoulder and began to laugh to herself. Sandor felt her sticky breath on his skin.

“Yes. Sorry, sir.” Sandor loosened his hold on Sansa.

“I hope I won’t hear you talk about her that way again.” Ned stood from the table, and walked out the door with the dogs trailing behind him.

“He’s trying to play you, Sandor. Don’t take it personally.” Jon smiled at him, and then followed his father out of the house. Robb then followed Jon.

“I hope so.” Sandor’s face reddened slightly. He looked at Sansa, looking for support.

“I better not hear you talk about me like that again.” Sansa smirked at him, then laughed. “Calm down, Clegane. He doesn’t hate you… yet.”

“That’s reassuring, Stark.” Sandor removed his arm from Sansa, and looked at the clock on the wall behind him. “It’s already eleven?”

“Oh!” Catelyn stood up, “Bran! Rickon! Time to put the games away. It’s time for bed. Now. Brush your teeth.”

Her orders were met with a chorus of complaints, “Mom! We’re not tired. Twenty more minutes! Mom, please!”

Arya stood up without a word, and walked into the other room, where screams from the boys echoed throughout the house. “Mom! Get her off of me! Mom! Arya bit me!”

Rickon ran into the kitchen holding onto his hand, “Mom. Arya bit me. Bran kicked me.”

“Tattle tale!” Bran called in from the other room.

“Boys, bed now!” Catelyn stood, no more questions were to be asked. Even Sandor recoiled slightly.

Arya walked back into the room, and stole Sansa’s glass of wine. “Shouldn’t you happy couple be getting to bed? We have an early day tomorrow.”

“What are we doing?” Sansa snatched her glass back, and drank the rest of its contents.

“Beach. Fishing, tubing, eating, drinking. The usual.” This time, she went for Sandor’s beer.

“I don’t think so, she-wolf.” Sandor tightened his grip on his drink. “Get your own.”

“Be that way.” She took Sansa’s empty glass, and she leaned down into Sansa’s ear, “Have fun with the bed situation.”

Sansa gasped, and tried saying something, but Arya was already out the room when she got her voice.

“No offense, Stark, but your sister is the she-devil.”

“None taken.” Sansa leaned back, and rubbed her eyes.

‘Getting tired?” He asked her.

“Very,” Sansa stood and stretched. She let out some deep moans when the stretch finally hit the right spot.

“Jeez, save some later!” Arya yelled from the other room.

“Arya!” Sansa blushed deeply. “I’m sorry, normally she’s not so… no nevermind. She is _always_ like this.”

Sandor laughed, “Then for that I am sorry. Going to bed?”

“Yeah, I think so.” Sansa started walking towards the bedroom. “You coming?”

He started following her through the hallway, and then up the stairs, and through one more hallway. “How do you want to do the bed?”

She flicked on the lights, and then went for her bags. She knelt down, and thought for a moment. “I can take the floor. It’s not a big deal.”

“I’m not going to make you sleep on the floor, Sansa.” Sandor peeled off his shirt, and threw next to his bag. He started unbuckling his belt when Sansa bolted up.

“What are you doing?” She demanded.

“Putting on some shorts? What does it look like?” He pulled down his pants, _What the hell? It’s not like she hasn't seen legs before._

“You could at least warn me!” Sansa tried avoiding him with her gaze, but she kept looking at his stomach and shoulders.

“Hey,” He snapped his fingers, “Eyes are up here!”

He laughed when she huffed a deep breath, and turned around completely.

“You can be such a jerk.” She had her hands on her hips, and she was angrily tapping her feet. Sandor couldn’t help but notice how long her legs were, and that short sundress wasn’t helping.

As he pulled up a pair of sweatpants, he called the all-clear.

“Sandor, you’re not wearing a shirt.” She shook her head, and started digging through her bags again.

“I never sleep with a shirt on.”

“Tonight you do.” She was still avoiding his general direction.

“What does it matter? I’m sleeping on the floor.” Sandor started to lay blankets out on the floor.

“I told you aren’t sleeping on the floor.” She swiped the blanket from the floor and balled it up.

“Well you’re not sleeping on the floor.” Sandor went to grab the blanket, and got a hold on the corner. With one arm, he tugged on it, and Sansa slid slightly across the floor.

“Let go of the blanket, Clegane.” Sansa growled at him.

“No. Now give it to me.” He tugged again.

Her response was a tug of her own. She barely moved back.

“Sansa. You obviously aren’t going to win this. Give it to me.”

“No.” She pulled with all of her might. “Holy crap, Sandor! What are you, a freaking ox?” She pulled again.

For his own amusement, he let go slightly, and Sansa almost tumbled backwards.

“Give it up, Stark.” She pulled again.

“Nope.” Sandor pulled, and Sansa fell towards him. She landed against his chest. Her hands were splayed on his shoulders. “Well Stark, if you wanted to get this close, we could just sleep in the same bed.”

She looked up at him, her hands still on his body. Once again, he could feel her breath on him. “You are… never-mind. You’re not worth it.”

She grabbed one of her bags, and left the room.

Sandor stood there, thinking he took it too far. He heard the sink from the bathroom across the hall, and dragged a hand over his face. _Always taking it too far.   Whatever, the little bird can toughen up._

Moments later, Sansa walked back in shorts and a tank top. He had to rub his eyes to make sure he wasn’t going insane. Little Bird has curves.  Her hair was in loose waves all around her shoulders, and it reached over half way down her back. She had freckles across her chest, and even some on her knees.  _I wonder where else she has them._

Sansa grabbed the blankets off the floor, and laid them on the bed. She crawled under the covers, and started doing something with the pillows.

“What are you doing?” Sandor asked dumbly.

“The bed’s big enough. These,” She smacked the pillows for emphasis, “will be our boundary. I won’t go on your side, and you won’t go on mine.”

Pillows went down the length of bed, and she had two on her side, and Sandor had one on his side. Sansa hit them a couple of times, and then went down with a thunk,

“Alright.” He said, and started making his way towards the bed.

“Turn off the light.” She mumbled with her eyes closed.


	7. It. Was. An. Accident.

The light chirping of birds poured through the open window before the sun did. Their soft song swept through the room as the sun was catching up. A soft breeze rustled the curtains, and Sandor slowly opened his heavy eyes. He brought his left hand to his face, and rubbed it vigorously. He tried to bring his other hand to his face as well, but it was stopped by a soft, sleeping Sansa. 

 

“Shit,” he mouthed to himself. He lifted his head to see that their legs were tangled with each other, and she had her head resting on his naked chest. He dropped his head, and stared at the ceiling for a couple of moments. He tried to move his arm, but she just got even closer to him.  _ Guess I wasn’t wrong about the bed hog thing. _

 

Next, he tried to move his legs out of the knot they had somehow concocted throughout the night. When he moved one leg, hers just slid farther up his, dragging his sweatpants up. There was so much skin to skin contact, Sandor’s breath started to quicken. 

 

_ Do I wake her up? Do I just stay like this until she wakes up? I gotta piss. Fuck me bloody. _

 

The sunlight started inching its way across the floor, onto the bed. Sandor tried once again to move his arm, but Sansa ended up slipping one of her legs out of the knot, and draping it across his waist, and snuggling even closer to him. She let out a small sigh. 

 

Bloody fucking hell.  Sandor looked around the room as he started to panic. He wasn’t prepared for this.  When did this happen? He had woken multiple times throughout the night, and the both of them were safe on their respective sides of the bed. With his free hand, he made a desperate attempt for his cell phone sitting at the edge of the nightstand. 

 

“Would you stop… weed whacking… I’m trying to sleep.” Sansa mumbled softly in her sleep. 

 

Sandor froze, his hand outstretched towards his phone. Sansa silenced once more, save for some slight snores. Once more, he stretched a little farther, and grabbed onto his phone. Clicking his home button, the phone brightened to reveal the time was just past five o’clock.  _ You’ve got to be fucking kidding me _ ,  Sandor thought to himself. 

 

Sansa’s leg tightened for a moment, and she smiled in her sleep, “That tickles.” 

 

Sandor had to fight the urge to laugh,  _ this is going to make great blackmail material.  _

 

The pounding of footsteps in the hallway caused Sandor to freeze again. Arya’s voice sounded through the door, “I’ll wake ‘em up, Mom! Don’t worry.” 

 

Sandor closed his eyes, and dropped his phone. He had no idea what possessed him to do it, but he thought it was better than having Arya know that he was  awake, aware of how they looked. He draped his left arm over his face, and turned slightly into Sansa. 

 

The soft creaking of the door filled the pungent silence. Her footsteps caused the floorboards to whine; she stopped. He could hear her suppressed giggles, and then the ruffling of some fabric. Silence for a couple of more moments. Sandor’s arm was starting to get tired, and he didn’t think he could put up the charade for much longer, when the floorboards creaked again, and the door closed. 

 

_ That was odd _ ,  he thought to himself. 

 

The pounding on the door almost made him shit himself. 

 

“Time to get up, lovebirds!” Arya shouted through the door. 

 

Sansa jerked violently, and then burst up, balancing on her elbows. “Oh, gods!” 

 

She looked around, noticed she was practically on top of him, and then squealed. She rolled over, and overestimating how much of the bed was left, fell right over the edge, with a loud thud. “Ow!” 

 

Sandor sat up and rubbed his eyes with his fists, yawning loudly. He looked over towards Sansa; she sat on the floor, rubbing her head. 

 

“You all right, little bird?” Sandor stood, and stretched his tight muscles. His right arm was completely asleep. 

 

“Oh no. No, no. You broke the rule. You crossed the middle. One rule, Sandor! One rule!” Sansa stood, fixing her tank top and shorts. 

 

“I’m fairly certain it was you who crossed the border.” Sandor began looking through his bag for a shirt. 

 

“And you still haven’t put a shirt on! What if my mom, or worse, my dad, walked in?” Sansa’s skin was deep red.  She knows it was her,  Sandor thought to himself. He chuckled. 

 

“Not satisfied with just looking, huh?” Sandor smirked at her, and tossed one of his shirts at her. “There, there’s a shirt for ya.” He winked. 

 

“You… you are an absolute menace, Clegane!” Sansa stormed out, and went into the bathroom. 

 

Sandor laughed to himself. “Whatever you need to tell yourself.” 

 

Arya stepped through the door, and raised her eyebrows at Sandor, “Sleep well?”

 

He eyed her suspiciously, “Better than I expected.” He shrugged his shoulders. 

 

“I bet you did, you hound dog.” Arya winked at him before leaving the room. 

 

_ Keep your face neutral, Clegane.  _

 

***

 

An hour later, all the Starks and the lone Clegane were seated around a rather large dining table. Ned sat at one head of the table, Robb at the other. Jon sat to his left, and Bran and Rickon across from him, fighting over a chair. Arya sat next to her father, seemingly in a heated debate with Jon over the right water gun. Sansa and Sandor were seated to the right of Arya. Catelyn served eggs, pancakes, waffles, french toast, sausage, bacon, fruit, and even cereal. 

 

She darted from kitchen to table more times than Sandor could count, hardly sitting down for more than thirty seconds at a time. 

 

“Cat, sit down and eat.” Ned scowled at her over his second cup of coffee. 

 

“Does everyone have enough to eat? Rickon, do you want another glass of milk, sweetie?” Catelyn looked over the table, and once seeing that every plate was full and each glass was filled, she sat down and began to eat as well. 

 

The breakfast started out quiet, as one usually does at five in the morning. Arya drank her coffee black, as did Sandor. Sansa filled it with sugar, and creamer that tasted like chocolate chip cookies. Robb and Jon drank some sort of Colombian blend; Sandor swore that if Robb had darker hair, he would never be able to tell the pair of them apart.

 

The more coffee they drank, the louder they became. Arya flicked a piece of watermelon at Robb, which led to Robb throwing a scrambled egg at Bran. Catelyn tried to get them to behave as adults, but it was no use. Whenever siblings are around one another, they will act as they did when they were children. 

 

Sandor leaned over to Sansa, who had consistently avoided contact with him since they woke up this morning, “Does your family always wake up this early?” 

 

Sansa twirled some syrup over his lemon french toast, carefully using her fork to cut off a small sliver of it. She bit into it as she simply nodded her head. 

 

Sandor nodded his head back to her, exaggerating the movement. “Alright, so… you ever going to talk me little bird?” 

 

She gingerly dabbed a strawberry into a pile of a sugar, and looked at him with still puffy eyes from sleep, “Why wouldn’t I?” 

 

He watched her as she bit from the berry; her lips pursed around it and some of the juice dribbled down her chin. She went to grab a napkin, but Sandor’s was already in his hand. Instead of doing the normal thing and handing her the napkin, he brought his hand to her chin, and gently wiped away the juice. 

 

Sansa’s hands froze on the table, and Sandor’s froze on her face. She glanced at him, and he held her gaze. She burst into laughter after three seconds of looking at him. He chuckled himself, and pulled back his hand. 

 

“What’s going on over there?” Cat called over the noise to Sandor and Sansa. 

 

Sandor coughed, and straightened. Sansa looked guilty as she trained her eyes on the half eaten strawberry on her plate. 

 

“They’re making me sick is what they’re doing.” Bran reported through a full mouth of waffle. 

 

This elicited laughter from the rest of the table, even Rickon who hadn’t been paying attention. 

 

Cat smiled at them, liked she did every time she saw them together. “Well, there is nothing wrong with showing a little affection. Right, Ned?” 

 

Cat placed her hand on his, and he smiled at her as he leaned over and placed an almost chaste kiss on her cheek. 

 

A chorus of puking noises came from most of the Stark children. Arya was the loudest, but Sansa stayed silent as she gazed at her parents. Her eyes looked a little sad, but hopeful at the same time.  _ Why is she looking at them like that? _

 

“You need to stop before I puke up my breakfast.” Arya stood from the table and began clearing plates from the table. Sansa stood next, and helped put away leftovers. Robb then started washing the dishes, as Jon dried them, and Bran and Rickon put them away. 

 

This was obviously a pattern; they had all done this before, many, many times. Sandor awkwardly looked on as they worked in a unit. He stood to the side of the island, watching Sansa. She was still in her pajamas, a pair of short and a tank top, and her hair was in a haphazard braid over her left shoulder. She was laughing with Jon as she put french toast and waffles into a tupperware container. Her eyes met his for a quick second, and then tore away as she turned to put the container back in the fridge. 

 

“Robb, can you grab me that bowl?” Sansa asked as she tried reaching a single bowl that sat on the top shelf of the cabinet. 

 

“Little busy at the moment,” He said disinterestedly as he splashed Arya with the bubbles. 

 

“It’ll take you like a-” 

 

“I got it, little bird.” Sandor maneuvered his way through the crowded kitchen. He reached up, and grabbed the bowl, and handed it to her. 

 

“Thanks,” She gave a small smile. She looked around for a moment, and then quietly, “Would you like to help me put away,” she gestured to the massive amount of food that was leftover, “this?” 

 

“Sure,” he shrugged, and started helping. 

 

As he was putting all the meat into a bowl, he asked why there was enough food to food a small army. 

 

“This is the only breakfast food mom makes all week. It should be enough to last. Normally we each take some home too.” Sansa clipped the lid to the fruit bowl, and put it into the fridge. 

 

“Don’t you ever do family get-togethers with your family?” Sansa asked as her back was turned. 

 

“Ah, that would be a no.” Sandor handed her one of the last bowls. 

 

“That’s, uh, sad. I don’t know what I would do without my family.” Sansa pouted a bit.

 

“Damn right you wouldn’t.” Arya slung an arm over her sister’s shoulders and kissed her cheek. “Now, get your ass ready. We’re going to the beach.” 

 

*** 

 

Two hours later, they were headed to the local beach. Which made no sense to Sandor, as their cabin was literally right next to a lake. They had a dock, and a small private beach. Why did they need to go to a public one?

 

Sandor, Sansa, and Arya drove separately from the rest of the group; a minivan could only hold so many people comfortably. He followed the minivan through the small town, and listened to the Stark sisters’ chattering the whole way. 

 

“So, how’d you guys sleep last night?”  Arya leaned forward and poked at Sandor’s ear. 

 

“You already asked me that.” Sandor glanced in the rear-view mirror to meet Arya’s eyes. 

 

“Ah, Sansa how’d you sleep? Was it  _ cozy _ ?”  Arya poked Sansa’s arm, and laughed.

 

“Would you stop that?” Sansa slapped her hand away.

 

“Was it warm? Was it  _ nice ? _ ” 

 

“I slept fine.” Sansa snapped, and a blush spread throughout her cheeks. 

 

“Just fine? Really, Sansa?” 

 

“Wow! Look! We’re here!” Sansa called unnecessarily, and unbuckled her seatbelt. 

 

Sandor pulled up his truck besides the minivan. He cut the engine, and hopped out, only to have Arya swing the door to the backseat just in time to hit him in the face. 

 

“Fuck me bloody,” Sandor mumbled to himself, and he held his face in one of his hands.  

 

“Arya!” Sansa slammed her car door, “What are you doing?” 

 

“It was an accident!” Arya shrieked as she looked over Sandor holding a bloody nose.

 

“Oh gods, oh gods.” Sansa muttered as she tried getting Sandor sit on a nearby bench. “Come on; keep your head tilted up.” 

 

“I’m fine, Sansa.” Sandor grumbled, but sat down nonetheless. 

 

“What happened?” Catelyn rushed over, and joined Sansa in fussing over Sandor. 

 

“I ran into the door.” Sandor’s voice was morphed as he pinched at his nose.

 

“Arya hit him with the door.” Sansa glared at her sister.

 

“It. Was. An. _Accident_.” Arya said through clenched teeth. 

 

“I highly doubt that,” Robb scoffed from the side. 

 

“Go grab the first aid kit, Robb. It’s in the glove apartment.” Catelyn pushed Sandor’s hand away to look at his bleeding nose. 

 

Sansa stood behind her, worry spread throughout her face. “Way to go, Arya.” 

 

“Accident!” Arya called again. 

 

“Mom, when are we going to swim?” Rickon called from behind Ned, awkwardly holding large tubes. 

 

“In a moment, sweetie. Mom has to help Sandor right now.” Catelyn gratefully took the first aid kit from Robb. 

 

“Why doesn’t Sansa just help him? We need you and dad to get the boat all ready.” Robb took the tube from Rickon, and put it back into the boat. “You can handle it, right, soon-to-be-Mrs.Clegane?” 

 

Sansa coughed, and then looked at the bleeding Sandor.  “Sure, yeah.”

 

Catelyn handed the kit to Sansa, “Let me know if you need anything.” 

 

The Starks moved out towards the dock, where Ned had moved their boat. Sansa ran a hand over her yellow dress, and then pulled her hair back into a bun. 

 

“So,” she sat on the bench next to him, and looked through the first aid kit. “Um, you need, ah, gauze.” 

 

With his head still tilted upwards, Sandor laughed. “You have no idea what you’re doing.” 

 

“Yes, I do. Now move your hand so I can get the blood out of there.” She took the gauze and slowly patted his nose. “Well, it stopped bleeding. You also have a cut on your nose.” 

 

“Perfect.” Sandor breathed in deeply, and sat up straighter. Which caused Sansa to miss the cut on his nose, and ended up poking him in the eye. 

 

“Oh, gods. I am so sorry!” Sansa tried to grab his face to look at it, but Sandor stood up. 

 

“Fuck me bloody.” He put pressure to his eye, and started pacing. 

 

“I am so sorry. Sandor, sit back down. Please.” Sansa set down the first aid kit, and grabbed Sandor by the shoulders. “Sit. Down. Now.” 

 

“So you can injure me further?” Sandor took his hand off his eye, and Sansa had to bite her tongue to stop from laughing. 

 

“What now?” Sandor glared at her, one completely bloodshot. 

 

“You look…” Laughter took over Sansa’s voice. 

 

“Like an imbecile?” Sandor looked into the side mirror of his truck. “Bloody hell. I look fucking stoned.” 

 

Sansa’s face blushed with laughter. Her dimples appeared slightly, and her blue eyes crinkled as she laughed.  She wrapped her arms around her stomach, and each time she looked at his face, she laughed even harder. Sandor could help but laugh as well. 

 

_ How the hell did this happen? My face is bruised, my nose has huge scab on it, and my eye more red than white. And this is only the first day. Only six days and 6 hours left. _

 

“I am so sorry, but this whole situation… it’s so ridiculous.” Sansa laughed again.

 

“No, you’re right, little bird.” Sandor sat on the bench with a huff of breath. 

 

Sansa took the empty space beside him, and looked towards her family at the dock. They were bustling around each other, getting the boat into the water. She glanced at Sandor, “Thank you for coming.” 

 

He raised an eyebrow at her, “What?” 

 

“I know I’m being crazy. I bribed you with really expensive booze and delicious donuts, and lemon cakes. I occupied your apartment, and wouldn’t leave until you agreed. You get assaulted by sister, once with water balloons and then with a car door. You wake up this morning to have me practically on top of you and-” 

 

“Stark. Shut up.” Sandor laughed. 

 

“I was just apologizing,” Sansa looked at the ground, and her voice was small. 

 

“You don’t need to. Do you really think that you sitting in my apartment did that much? I could have easily picked you up and dumped you outside my door.” 

 

“You did do that.” Sansa laughed. 

 

“After you latched yourself to my back.” 

 

Sansa burst into laughter once more, “Not one of my proudest moments, I admit.” 

 

“Lovebirds, get your asses over here!” Arya called from the boat. Sandor saw that the entirety of the Stark except for Sansa, was sitting the boat, ready to go. What were they even doing? Sandor didn’t think to ask. 

 

Sandor stood, and an unexpectedly Sansa jumped onto his back. “Onward, Noble Steed!” 

 

“Get off of me.” Sandor walked a couple of steps, and then violently swung to the side, and Sansa tightened her legs around his waist. “Not this again, Stark.”

 

“Onward, I say!” She giggled, and then whispered into his ear, “Mother dear is watching us.” 

 

He nodded, and then slowly started walking towards the dock. Arya and Robb started hooting at him, and Catelyn smiled at them. Ned was more interested in the boat’s engine than anything else. 

 

“Dump her in, Clegane!” Arya shouted, and Jon reciprocated the notion. 

 

“Don’t you dare, Clegane.” Sansa whispered into his ear. 

 

“Do it! Do it! Do it!” Arya, Robb, and Jon started chanting. 

 

“Can’t make the crowd angry, can we, Stark?” He smiled, and went to dump Sansa off the side of the dock. 

  
However, Sansa tightened her legs around his hips. Instead of Sansa taking a swim, both Sandor and Sansa ended up in the water. 


	8. What the Hell Did You Drag Me Into?

Sandor pushed himself to the surface, gasping for breath. Seaweed clamped around his knees and ankles. As he stood to his full height, the water barely made it to his waist. His toes clamped around the mud, and he suddenly wondered what happened to his shoes.

Sansa popped up besides him, and mimicked him as she dragged in air. Her long hair that was once wrapped in a bun now hung at awkward angles around her face and shoulders. Her shirt clung to her body, and Sandor couldn’t help noticing the bright pink bikini under her soaked clothing.

“You bloody bastard, you actually did it!” Arya cried from the boat, tears flowing down her cheeks as she laughed.

Catelyn looked terrified, but she was the only one. The rest of the family was in an uproar; Bran and Rickon were clinging onto each other as they laughed, and even Ned chuckled as he sat at wheel. Robb had a look of total surprise as he kept hitting Jon in the arm.

Sansa slowly turned to look at Sandor; her eyes were murderous. She pushed away hair from her face, effectively leaving smears of mud across her cheeks and nose.

Laughing, he gingerly plucked away some seaweed from her hair, and used his thumb to brush away the dirt. “You’re a little dirty, little bird.”

“You horrible human being.” Sansa clenched her teeth as she glared at him.

“Oh, come on, Stark. It’s just a little fun. You were going to be wet anyway.” Sandor smirked, and splashed her.

“Come on!” Sansa bellowed, but she was laughing. She splashed him back, and grabbed a clump of floating weeds and chucked it at Sandor. “That was for dumping me in the lake!”

“I fell in, too!” Sandor cried, continuing to splash her.

“Come on you two!” Cat shouted, holding up her phone. “Wait, stay there! I want a picture of this!”

“No, mom, let’s not.” Sansa held out her hand, as if doing that would block the whole frame.

“Sansa, smile like a good girl!” Arya sat behind her mother, giving her a thumbs.

“I look horrible; I really don’t want my photo taken.” Sansa slowly started to wade her way to the dock, and Sandor awkwardly followed.

“Sansa, smile. Now.” Cat still had a smile, but anyone could her the authoritarian tone that demanded respect.

“Fine,” Sansa clenched her teeth, and with an arm's space between her and Sandor, she smiled.

“Sansa Stark, you hug your fiance like you love him.” Cat held up her phone once more, and waited for Sansa to inch her way over to Sandor.

“Come on, Stark. You can’t be mad at me; we’re in love, remember?” He chuckled as she made a gagging sound.

Annoyed, Cat put down her phone once, ready to scream at Sansa. To avoid this, Sandor picked up Sansa, and held in the honeymoon fashion, and put on the cheesiest grin he could muster.

“Lovely!” Cat called, “Can we get a kissing one? Please!”

“Mom! That is so inappropriate!” Sansa blushed deeply.

“Please, for the sake of my soul, do not take a kissing picture.” Ned said from the back of the boat. “If they aren’t on this boat in forty five seconds, I’m leaving them.” With that, he started the boat.

Quickly, Sandor dumped Sansa once more into the lake, and jumped onto the dock with ease. His dark shirt clung to him, and try as hard as she did, Sansa couldn’t help but notice how it stuck to chest, and his back. _How can somebody have that many muscles? Seriously, it was like he was a body builder._

After he got onto the dock, he offered her a hand. His smile actually looked charming. She looked at it skeptically, but took it.

“Don’t drop me again.” She slightly gasped as he put his hands under each armpit, and lifted her with ease. He set her on the dock, and swung an arm around her shoulders.

“This is going to be great. Just you, me, your sister, your four brothers, your mother, and most importantly, your father.”

Sansa was the one to laugh this time as she got into the boat.

****

An hour later, the Starks and Sandor were speeding across the lake, turning at random points, and zig-zagging around. Sandor learned that it was to create larger waves when they started tubing.

“What the hell is tubing?” Sandor asked Jon over the sound of the boat.

“You’re kidding, right?” Jon laughed at him, when he looked at how serious Sandor’s face was, he stopped. “Oh, it’s where you hold onto this,” he held up the tube, “as it’s attached to the boat, and who ever is the last one holding, wins!”

“That sounds stupid.” Sandor crossed his arms, adjusted the baseball cap he was wearing, and glared at Sansa. She sat in front of him, laughing with her sister. Her clothes were drying against her skin, as were his.

“It is, incredibly. Robb’s gotten two concussions from it, and Rickon broke his arm. But we all do it, because it’s a competition. Strangely enough, Sansa usually wins.” Jon cracked a smile.

“No way; don’t believe it.” Sandor looked at Jon to Sansa, and back to Jon. “There’s no way.”

“She’s just as competitive as the rest of us; she just doesn’t show it.” Robb called from the front of the boat, where he was perched next to his father.

“Are you talking about me?” Sansa looked between Sandor and Robb, and then back to Arya.

“Of course not, darling. You are too much of a precious gem for us to talk about.” Robb drolled out in a fake southern accent.

“Just because I accidentally kicked you in the head last time doesn’t mean you can be baby about it.” Sansa laughed, and took off her sunglasses. The faint lines of sunburn already starting to appear on her face.

“You gave me a concussion!”

“Children, please.” Ned cut off the engine.

“I call going first!” Arya burst up, and went for the life jackets.

“Me too!” Sansa stood, and stripped off the white swimsuit coverup to reveal a neon pink bikini top, and black bikini bottoms. Her skin wasn’t tan, but it wasn’t as pale as Sandor thought it would be.

Sandor tried to avoid looking at her, but he couldn’t. He never knew that kind of body would be hidden all those dresses she wears. He couldn’t help but think back to this morning, when she was wrapped around -

“Clegane, I know you’re engaged to my sister and all, but could you please just not do that.” Jon looked at him, “Especially with dad, right there.”

Sandor shook himself, and turned his whole body away. _Who would have thought the little bird would be beautiful?_

“Sandor, could you help Sansa with her sunscreen? She always forgets.” Catelyn smiled at him, and tossed him the tube of sunscreen.

“Uh, I don’t think that would…” Sandor couldn’t think of anything to say.

Sansa shot her mother a look, but made her way over. He couldn’t but look at her hips as she walked. She smiled at him, and turned around, pulling her hair off to the side.

“This is weird.” Sandor whispered to her. He squeezed some of the gel onto his fingers, and rubbed it into the middle of Sansa’s back. With the contact, she jumped.

“That’s really cold.” Sansa tried to ignore how his fingertips felt on her skin. It made her think back to the morning; her body on his, and his fingertips dancing across her skin when he was sleeping.

“This year, love birds.” Arya already had her life jacket on, and was jumping into the water.

“Jon, hand me the life jacket.” Sansa smiled at Sandor. “You’re gonna love this. You’re an adrenaline junky right?”

“No.” Sandor sat in the boat, and tried to ignore her legs.

“Liar.” Sansa jumped into the water.

“Sandor, come sit by me.” Ned sat back by the wheel, and nodded his head to the seat where Robb was just sitting.

Silently, Sandor took the seat. Ned started the boat again, and signaled the girls to see if they were ready. As he got the boat in motion, he coughed slightly.

“So, Cat has been telling me a lot about you.” The wind distorted some of his words, and Sandor had to strain to hear him fully.

“Has she now?” He held onto his hat as Ned took a sharp corner.

“She said you’re a construction foreman.”

“No, I’m an independent contractor.” Sandor answered automatically, but then realized the man she told her family was indeed a construction foreman. “Sansa never seems to be able to tell the difference.” He laughed awkwardly, but died off when Ned didn’t join in.

“Sandor, I’m going to be straightforward with you,” Ned yanked the wheel again, and Sansa’s laughter drifted across the water, “Sansa has told me, repeatedly, she wasn’t looking for a relationship. Didn’t want one. Her mother doesn’t listen to her, but I do.”

Sandor breathed in, and wrung his hands together, “I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about, sir.”

“I’m saying it’s odd that four months ago she didn’t even want to see men, but now she’s engaged. I don’t want her going too fast with someone she barely knows.”

“Hey, dad, they’re saying kick up the speed.” Jon called from the back of the boat.

With only a wave of acknowledgement, Ned increased the speed, and Sandor heard Arya’s scream, and then Sansa’s laughter.

“So, Sandor, what I’m saying is: if you break my darling little girl’s heart, I will have the wolves eat you for breakfast. She’s strong, and independent, and if you do anything to damage that, I will personally cut of your balls.”

Sandor stared at the man, petrified. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. He tried again, and again, but still nothing happened. _What the hell? What the bloody fuck? I’m not even dating Sansa Stark._

“Ned! Go back, Arya fell off!” Cat laughed, and shouted to her oldest daughter, “Please tell you didn’t give her a concussion!”

***

Hours later, they made their way back to the dock. The sun was still high in the sky, but the air had already began to cool off.

Sandor helped Ned bring the boat back up to the trailer, but he didn’t say much to him. He didn’t think he could. Robb and Jon helped as well, but they were almost as useless as Bran and Rickon. The latter pair smuggled water guns with, and suddenly a full blown war erupted between the Stark children.

“You’d think I still have a house full of rambunctious teenagers, and not adults.” Cat packed the last cooler into the trunk of the minivan.

“Die, demon!” Arya shouted as she chased after her younger brothers with a water gun the size of a small child.

“Jon! Robb! Get her!” Rickon hid behind a tree, hoping Arya wouldn’t find him.

Sandor watched with a sort of fascination. A just a bit of jealously. He never had the opportunity to have such close family connections, to be part of something.

“Sandor, toss me that bungee.” Ned held out his hand.

As he tossed him the cord, Sansa burst out from a bush, empty handed.

“Sandor!” She grabbed him by the shoulders, and pushed him in front of her. “Be my shield.”

“Are you kidding me, Stark?” Sandor turned his head, and he could only see out of the corner of his eye. Her hair was piled on her head, and her skin was more than little sun kissed. Her swimsuit cover hung at an awkward angle on her shoulder, exposing her whole shoulder and part of her swimsuit.

“Shhh. Bran and Rickon won’t shoot you, but Arya will.”

“Sansa. Please.” Sandor closed his eyes, and breathed in.

“Cover me to the bushes at least.” Her hands gripped at his shoulders.

“How about you get in the truck so we can leave. You need a shower anyway.”

“Lose the ‘tude, dude.” Sansa ducked behind him even further when she saw Arya close in on Robb.

“Truck, now.” Sandor started to side step his way over to the vehicle, and when Sansa safely locked behind the door, he breathed out, and went towards to help her father once more. Arya had different plans.

She popped in front of him with a loud, “Ah-ha!” and squirted him in the face three times and ran away again.

_That wolf-bitch will be the death of me._

“You and Sansa can go ahead, and head on home. Arya will ride home with us.” Ned called as he pulled the boat out of the water.

“Don’t take too many detours!” Cat smiled at him, and waved goodbye.

Sandor climbed into the truck, and used his t-shirt to wipe away the water that was dripping from his face.

“Have I mentioned how much I hate your sister?” Sandor turned the ignition on, and before taking off, he doubled check to see if her seatbelt was on.

“She’s really not that bad. It’s just that when we’re all together, we turn into kids again. Looking at her, you wouldn’t guess she actually has a successful career.” Sansa took a stray towel from the back, and handed it to him.

“How many more days of this?” Sandor looked at her, and signaled his next turn.

“I know; I’m really sorry. I’ll tell her to lay off some.”

“Maybe your father too?”

“What did dad do?” Sansa sat up.

“He told me he would cut my balls off if I hurt you.” Sandor glanced at her, expecting her to look mortified.

Instead, he saw her trying to fight back laughter. Her face turned more red, and water bubbled behind her eyes.

“Why is that funny?” Sandor demanded.

At last, she released her laughter. She glanced at him, only causing her to laugh harder. “He did not say something that vulgar!”

“I remember, quite clearly.” Sandor raised his eyebrows. Why the hell was this funny?

“He must like you.” Sansa leaned back in her seat. She put her feet up on the dash, and he saw the fabric inching up her thighs.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, not like you. But he sees you as sticking around… oh. Maybe this isn’t good.” Sansa’s eyes grew wide.

**  
“What the hell did you drag me into, Stark?” Sandor muttered, not for the first time, and certainly not for the last.**


	9. Gods, She Was Really Drunk

As the sun began to set, Sandor and Sansa sat out on the deck with her parents and her oldest brother, Robb. Her other siblings were off in various places; the two youngest were hidden away in their tree house, and Jon and Arya ran off into town for something. Sansa whispered to Sandor that Arya was meeting up with a beau. Sandor really didn’t care, but he nodded enthusiastically.

Ned just finished grilling burgers, brats, hot dogs, chicken, and even a steak. There was corn on the cob, potatoes, potato salad, coleslaw, watermelon, and even some things he didn’t recognize. Why does there always to be a feast? But he didn’t voice his concern as he piled food onto his plate. Sansa, on the other hand, only grabbed a few pieces of watermelon, but was knocking back glasses of wine like they were water.

“Robb, what happened with Jeyne?” Cat asked she scooped potato salad into her mouth.

“Well, you know… we didn’t work out.” Robb mumbled as he stabbed a bit of honey dew.

“What happened?” Sansa asked, and she reached for his hand.

“I don’t want to talk about it; it was a while ago.” Robb leaned back. It was obvious he wasn’t used to be interrogated by his family, even though they only asked a few questions.

“Let’s not pester him,” Ned gave his wife a stern glance, and then smiled at Sansa. “I heard you get to head a new major project at the floral place.”

“Floral place? I thought you were a creative director?” Sandor looked at her as he bit into a burger.

“That’s what he’s talking about,” Sansa gave a strained smile as she filled her glass once more.

“Tell us about it, Sansa.” Robb looked thankful for the change in subject.

“Well, we have redo our entire approach on reaching out. So I’m having the interns each design new webpages, logos, everything. It’ll be good practice for them, along with great experience when they’re actually working for any company. If any of them give me anything worthwhile, they get a job with the company.” Sansa sat up a little straighter as she talked about her job. Sandor could tell she was proud about what she did, but when he looked at her mother, she didn’t seem the least bit interested.

“But why don’t you just design everything?” Cat took a sip of wine, while Sansa drained her own glass.

“Because that’s not my job anymore, Mother.”

“I think it sounds fantastic. Doesn’t it, Dad?” Robb gave Sansa a smile. “I mean, she’s the boss. Like me.”

“Oh! Robb, did you get that promotion?” Cat sat straight up, and her face beamed with pride.

And just like that, the topic of Sansa’s career was ignored by her parents.

“So, have any of the interns given you anything worthwhile?” Sandor brought his chair a little closer to hers, as not to disturb her family’s newfounded conversation.

“Nope.” She stared straight ahead, and once again drained another glass.

“Does that happen often?” He whispered to her, gesturing to her family slightly with his hand.

“Only every time they mention my job.” She sat up, and filled her glass, and then decided to forget the glass, and took the bottle. She stood, and held out her hand to him, “Walk on the beach with me.”

“Oh! Do go, the lake is so pretty at this time of day.” Catelyn practically clapped her hands.

“Yes, Sandor, let’s!” Sansa started walking away, with Sandor’s hand in hers.

Before they started to head down towards their private lake, Sansa darted into the garage and came back out with a blue bottle. When she got close enough he saw that it was a type of vodka.

She screwed off the top, and started drinking it straight. She ripped it away from her mouth, and made a face.

“How do people do this?” She scraped her tongue against the roof of her mouth, trying to get rid of the taste.

“Do what? Drink?” He laughed a bit, and when they hit the sand of the beach, they took off their shoes. Sandor rolled the bottom of his jeans, and Sansa shed her cardigan.

“Straight. Drink it straight from the bottle, it’s terrible.” She screwed the top back on, and set it by a tree.

“Most mix it.” He looked at her arm as she intertwined it with his.

“That is true. And most girls are married by this time.” She laughed, and then looked longingly back at the bottle.

“That’s not true.” Sandor supported her as she stumbled slightly. Maybe drinking a whole bottle of wine, and a quarter bottle of vodka on an empty stomach was the best idea.

“To my mother it is!” Sansa threw her other arm out. “I’m going to die alone.”

“Impossible.” Sandor looked over at the lake; it really was a picture. The pinks and purples of the sunset shone vividly against the water, illuminating the whole expanse of the lake and neighboring woods.

“What’s impossible?” She looked up at him. Her words were slightly slurred.

“You dying alone.” Sandor put his hand around her waist when she tripped over her own two feet.

“Oh, little you know, Clegane. I’m dying alone. Just to spite my parents. I’ve always been the-” hiccup “good girl. Perfect grades, got into the best college, had a great boyfriend. I was doing everything right, but then when he proposed to me, I said no. I’ve never seen my mother so… What’s the word?”

“Mad?” Sandor supplied.

“Furious! I’ve never seen her so flurious. No, furious.” She said the word with great concentration, then broke into giggles.

“Maybe you need some sleep, Stark.” Sandor stopped walking, and Sansa stopped beside him.

“No. I want to swim.” She broke away from him, and began to strip her dress. She tried reaching for the zipper on the back of her dress, but couldn’t reach it. “Why can’t I get it?”

“Because the zipper’s on the side.” Sandor said, then immediately bit his tongue.

“Ah-ha!” Victory sounded as the zipper was pulled down. And suddenly her dress was off.

“Oh, bloody hell, Sansa!” He picked up her dress, and tried grabbing her, but she slipped away. She splashed into the water in just her bra and underwear.

She stood at knee deep, and began to run like a little kid through the water. Her arms were above her head, and her laughter drifted across the water. Her hair hung in loose waves around her shoulders, and was whipping through the air as she ran.

Sandor was going to grab her, _he was_. But she looked happy. He knew she was a high stressed person; he heard practicing her marketing pitches through the bathroom wall, many, many times. But, right now, as drunk as she was, she looked happy. She danced, though there was no music. She laughed, though no told a joke. She smiled, though she was alone.

And, by gods, _she was beautiful._ With her sun kissed skin, naked eyes, long red hair, perfect legs, Sandor would be a fool to say otherwise. But he would never tell her that she was attractive. She would take it the wrong way; they always do.

Suddenly, Sansa fell over. Her entire body went under the water, and Sandor froze. When she popped back up, her laughter was even fiercer than before. Her was dripping in wet ropes, and half of it was over her face.

“I fell! Something touched my leg, and I fell!” She breathed in, and started laughing again. She put her hands on her hips, and threw her head back. He noticed her nipples strain against her bralette.

He shook his head, and wished for the vodka himself now. “Sansa. Get out of the water. You’re going to get sick.”

“Good.” She said, suddenly straight faced, “Then we get to go home.”

Sandor paused. That did sound quite good, but he also didn’t want to hear her sniffles and coughs through the thin walls of the apartments.

“Get out of the water. Now.” He walked to the waterline, and his toes barely touched the waves.

“Come get me.” She smirked at him, and walked farther out into the water. It went to her mid-thigh, then her hips, then her waist, and finally just above her breasts. “Come on, Sandor! Have a bit of fun!”

“Stark, I’m not getting in the water!” He called out to her. He wrapped her dress around his arm, and then threw it into the sand.

She waded further in, and it was at her shoulders now. “Sandor! Please! It’s really not that cold.”

“You’ll be the death of me, Stark!” He shouted at her as he stripped off his shirt.

“Ow! Ow!” She called to him, and when he shot her a look, she ducked most of her head under water.

“I’m not going in here to play your games; I’m getting in here to get you _out._ ” He stripped off his jeans, and set them next to her dress.

She was right; the water wasn’t as cold he expected. He waded until the water hit his hip, and then he called to her, “Come meet me.”

“It’s so much more fun out here.” Her hair was pushed back from her face, and she was floating on her back.

Reluctantly, he continued further into the lake. Soon he was mere inches from her. Her hair floated around her, like a mermaid. She giggled when accidently swiped some of it as he walked.

He glanced at her body, and quickly looked away. She smirked at him, and then swam away.

“Sansa, what are you doing?” He closed his eyes, and sighed.

She swam around him, and climbed on his back. Out here, standing in the sand, the water made it to about his armpits, but with the added weight of Sansa they sunk.

“Save me, Clegane.” She giggled into his ears. _Gods, she was really drunk._

“I need a hero!” She started singing, “I’m holding out for a hero!”

She let go of his back, and began to swim around him, singing the same two lines over and over.

“Sasna, let’s go back to the beach.” He wasn’t used to dealing with drunk people; he was the one usually getting shitfaced.

“I need -” hiccup “a Sandor!” She laughed hysterically as she said that.

“What need is a cold shower, and a year’s worth of sleep.” He looked away as she splashed him.

“No! I’m going to become one with the lake. I will become a mermaid.” She kicked her legs at same time as if it were a fin.

“You’re not going to become a mermaid.” He looked up at the darkening sky, wondering what he did to deserve this.

“Says who? My mother? Ha! She’s doesn’t control me!” Sansa got closer to Sandor. “I’m going to become a mermaid.”

“Whatever you say.” He looked at her as she got even closer. Now they were less than an arm’s reach away from each other. The world around them was being captivated by the darkness, and the stars were starting to show in the sky above.

As she spoke, she got closer to him, until their chests were almost touching, “I will become a mermaid, and seduce pirates, and lure them to their deaths.”

He could feel her breath on him, and she could feel his, “I think you’re thinking of sirens.”

She closed her eyes slightly, “Does it really matter?”

Her breasts skimmed against his chest, and she bit her lip. He never noticed how perfect her lips were before.

“You have the prettiest eyes,” She whispered. “So grey, and dark.”

“Yours are all right, too.” He could feel his breath quickening.

She laughed, and leaned into his chest. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and laughed into his shoulder.

After a couple of moments like this, she mumbled, “I’m cold.”

“Let’s get you inside.” Instead of her detaching herself from him, she just locked her legs around his waist, and let him wade them through to the shore.

“Bloody hell, Stark.” He said under his breath.

When they hit the shore, Sandor set Sansa on her feet. “Get back into your dress.”

So, silently Sansa concentrated on putting her dress back on. After a couple moments, distressed sounds started coming from her mouth. As Sandor zipped his jeans, he looked and saw Sansa tangled in the straps of her dress.

“Help.” Was the only word that came from her. Head was through an arm hole, and both of her arms were in the other arm hole.

“Fucking hell, girl. What did you do?” Sandor walked over to her, using his shirt to wipe water off his face. He noticed her gaze drift lock on the muscles in his arms. He chuckled to himself.

“I’m stuck.” She sat with a thud.

“Put your arms up, useless girl.” She did as he said.

“Stand up.” He rolled his eyes.

“Ugh, why do you hate me? I like the ground.” She whined, and threw her head back. Her arms were still raised.

Silently, he pulled her up, and she practically fell into him. He grabbed the bottom of her dress, and yanked it upwards. With little struggle, it was off of her. He tried to figure out how the straps worked, but when he straightened on side, the back crossed.

Quickly, he gave up. Sansa started sinking to the ground, and he kept pulling her back up.

“It’s cold.” She looked around, and saw a firefly. Her face lit up. “Oo! We should catch… those!”

Giving up, he stripped his own shirt, and instructed Sansa to put her arms up again.

With an aggravated sigh, she complied. He stuck her arms though the sleeves, and her head through the hole. The plain black V-neck shirt went to her mid thigh.

Sansa smiled to herself, and hugged her arms. “This is nice.” She looked at him, “And so is that.”

“So is what?” Sandor grabbed her arm, and started heading back to the house.

“Your… chest, arms, back, legs. Basically your body.” She giggled. “I’m gonna regret that.”

“Yeah, you are.” Sandor wanted to get to the house as fast as possible. He was hoping to avoid her parents when they were both have naked. But drunken Sansa refused to stay on her feet.

“Fuck it.” He stopped, scooped her up honeymoon style, and kept walking on.

‘Wee!” Sansa sang in a whisper. “It’s like a rollercoaster. Because you’re so tall.”

“You are so drunk.” He smiled despite himself.

“Why don’t you do that more?” She poked at his face.

“Do what?” He saw the lights to the house, and decided they would go through the basement. He could hear her parents on the deck still.

“Smile. You have such a pretty smile. You can barely notice your scars when you smile.” She laid a hand against his cheek. Immediately, he stopped smiling.

“Oh, no. I’m sorry.” Sansa hugged him as best she could while he was carrying her. “You’re a beautiful majestic butterfly, Sandor. You’re so handsome. i’ve always thought so. When I first saw you in the hallway by my apartment, I thought, ‘Darn, that is a good looking unicorn.’”

As mad as he tried to be he couldn’t help but laugh at this, “Unicorn?”

“You know? A rare specimen of the male population.”

Sandor did not know that, but he didn’t answer as he carefully opened the basement door.

She didn’t need him to answer, “But you were just so rude. It was so scary. And you’re so tall. It should be illegal to be that tall.”

She then burped, and it didn’t smell like lemon cakes.

Slowly, he made his way up the stairs, listening to babble about various things. When he made it to the top, he got into the hallway that had the bedroom they were staying in. He flicked on the light, and he looked down at Sansa in his arms, to discover she had fallen asleep.

Sandor nudged the door open, and slid in the door sideways, making sure not to hit Sansa. She curled in tighter to him. As he leaned down on the bed, she groaned, and held onto his neck.

“Sansa, you need to let go.” He whispered, and she only released his neck was when he pulled her arms off of him. He pulled the blanket up, and covered her up to her chin.

Sandor straightened himself, and looked at the sleeping Sansa. He began to wonder if what she said was true, about him being a unicorn and such. He gave his head a quick shake. Not like it matters.

_She really is beautiful,_ he thought to himself.

A cough from behind caused him to jump. Sandor turned around to see Ned leaning against the door frame.

**  
“Let’s have a beer, and a chat.”**


	10. A Unicorn Butterfly

“Okay, Sir.” Sandor warily glanced at Eddard Stark.

**  
**

“I’ll give you a couple moments to dress yourself.” Ned motioned to Sandor’s naked torso, and then walked away.

**  
**

Sandor glanced down at his bare chest, and whipped his head back up to see an empty doorway. What a way to make a good impression on Eddard Stark.

**  
**

As quietly as he could, Sandor tiptoed over to his bag, and ripped out a sweatshirt. He threw it on, and was making his way out of the room when Sansa started mumbling something.

**  
**

“Don’t... “ Her face scrunched together, and she opened one eye.

**  
**

“Don’t what?” Sandor kneeled by the bed, and moved some of the hair out of her face.

**  
**

“Don’t… eat my waffles. They’re magic.” She scrunched her nose, and then turned the other way. She started snoring.

**  
**

“What the hell.” Sandor whispered to himself. “What the hell is wrong with this woman.”

**  
**

Before Sansa had the chance to wake up again, Sandor made his way to the kitchen.

**  
**

At the table, Ned sat with two beers in front of him. Most lights were off, except for the two above the table. A dog sat by the head of the table, sleeping.

**  
**

Sandor looked around with a skeptical eye. _This is how I’ll die. By a father who thinks I’m engaged to his daughter._

**  
**

“Have a seat.” Ned gestured to the seat across from him.

**  
**

“Of course, Sir.” Sandor sat down in the chair. He crossed his arms across his chest, and leaned back in the chair.

**  
**

“So, Sansa told me earlier that I scared you in the boat.” Ned grabbed a beer and took a swig.

**  
**

“I wouldn’t say that. I would say that it was… unexpected?” Sandor went for the other beer, but didn’t drink out of it.

**  
**

“Unexpected? Now, I wouldn’t say _that_.” Ned chuckled.

**  
**

“No, that seems appropriate.”

**  
**

Ned barked out a laugh. “That was good.”

**  
**

Sandor stayed silent, unsure what to say.

**  
**

“Sandor, I’m going to be candid with you. I don’t like the idea of you with my daughter. I believe you’re too old for her. You are a much rougher man than I would ever want for her. I don’t think you’re even in love with her.”

**  
**

“I’m not.” Sandor looked at Ned, and finally took a drink from the bottle.

**  
**

“What?” Ned set down his bottle.

**  
**

“I’m not in love with your daughter.” Sandor had no idea where he was going with this, but he hated lying.

**  
**

Ned just closed his eyes slowly, and tried to control his breathing.  “I’m not sure I understand what you’re saying.”

**  
**

“I’m saying: Yes, I am too old for your daughter. I am a rough person. I’m not in love with her. But your daughter, Sansa, is strong, independent, and knows how to think for herself. I’m not in love with her because I haven’t had the chance to fully know her yet.” He took a breath, how could he explain this? “Can I fall in love with her? Of course. Who couldn’t? Will I fall in love with her? …. I can certainly be leaning in that direction.”

**  
**

After he finished, he dragged in an uneven breath. Hopefully that was believable enough.

**  
**

Ned eyed Sandor, “Then why did you propose to her?”

**  
**

Shit. “Why did I? That’s a very good question. One I’m going to answer. Right now.”

**  
**

“Today.”

**  
**

“Yes.” Think, Clegane, think. “I’ve known Sansa for years. No offense, sir, but she is a pain in the ass. She sings all the time. She dances when there’s no music. She kicks and punches the air because one time she took a self defense class. Her laugh is either dainty or full-bellied, no inbetween. She’s not afraid to fight for what she wants. She’s strong. And, honestly, I’d be a fool to not fall in love with her.”

**  
**

Ned nodded his head, “You are a fool.”

**  
**

“Sir?”

**  
**

“That’s a very stupid decision. Asking someone to marry them before you’re sure? Idiocy.”

**  
**

“Better to wait until you’re completely sure and they’re gone?”

**  
**

“Sansa’s always believed in princes. You are not a prince.”

**  
**

“I’m aware.”

**  
**

“Don’t hurt my daughter.”

**  
**

“I don’t have that intention.”

**  
**

“You’re also a fool because you’re in love with her, and too stupid to admit it.”

**  
**

Sandor choked on his beer.

**  
**

Ned laughed. “You’ll be good for her.”

**  
**

“I thought you hated me?”

**  
**

“Hated? No. Dislike, yes. On principle, of course.” He chuckled to himself.

**  
**

“Alright. I… I don’t quite know what I should I say…” Sandor took a long pull from his beer, finishing it off.

**  
**

“Another?”

**  
**

“Sure.”

**  
**

Ned went around the island, and dug through the fridge. He came back around with two small glasses and a bottle of clear liquid. How much alcohol do they have here?

**  
**

“I opted for something a bit stronger. I hope you don’t mind.”

**  
**

“Not at all.” Sandor took the glass from Ned, and waited as he filled their glasses.

**  
**

“Cheers.” The clinked glasses and drained the contents.

**  
**

Ned cleared his throat. “So, you’re a construction foreman? That must have taken a lot of work-”

**  
**

“Private contractor.” Sandor took the bottle, and filled their glasses.

**  
**

“Right. You were telling me about that earlier.”

**  
**

“Sort of, I guess.”

**  
**

“I’m sure Sansa’s told you this, but I own a construction company.”

**  
**

Sandor tried to not look surprised. “I think she’s mentioned it, once or twice.”

**  
**

“You’re a bad liar.”

**  
**

“I’ve been told.” Sandor maintained eye contact.

**  
**

“So, is your business successful?”

**  
**

“It pays the bills, so yes.” Sandor cracked his knuckles.

**  
**

“Have you always been in construction or did you go to school first or…?”

**  
**

“I went into the military right after high school.” Sandor shifted uncomfortably.

**  
**

“Military? Very honorable. When did you discharge?”

**  
**

“About ten years ago, sir.”

**  
**

“And if you don’t mind my asking, why did you leave?”

**  
**

“I do mind, sir. It was a long time ago. I now work with the company I built, and that’s it.” Sandor hated discussing anything to do with the military.

**  
**

“How many clients are currently contracted out to?” Ned tried to sound casual, but Sandor understood what was happening.

**  
**

“Ten, Mr. Stark.”

**  
**

“That’s quite a bit. Must pay the bills quite nicely. When you two get married, will you want Sansa to quit her job?”

**  
**

Sandor scrunched his eyebrows together, “Why would she quit her job?”

**  
**

“To run the household, of course. Cat quit her job at the bookstore when we married. It would be impossible to have such a household if she were working.”

**  
**

“Sansa doesn’t want to quit to her job. She loves it, sir.”

**  
**

“But when you two decide to kids, that will change. At least that’s what Cat told me.”

**  
**

“We haven’t discussed kids. They’re not in our plans right now. Sansa loves her job; that much must be clear, even to you.” Sandor drained another glass; what the hell is wrong with her family?

**  
**

“I know she does, but she’s a traditional type of girl-” Sandor cut Ned off.

**  
**

“I think this is something you should discuss with your daughter. But I know that she doesn’t want you dictating her life. Goodnight, sir. I’m sorry if I offended you, but I don’t believe you should be disrespecting her in this matter.”

**  
**

With that, Sandor drained one more glass, and went back to the bedroom, crashing on the floor.

**  
**

_What the fuck did I just do?_

* * *

**  
**

_Why? Why are there needles poking my eyeballs?_

**  
**

Sansa pressed her fingers to her temples as she forced her eyes to open.The morning sun lit the whole room, reflecting off the shiny hardwood floors. The dry taste of vodka still burned on her tongue. Her entire body felt sore and constricted.

**  
**

She tried to sit up slowly, and her head protested furiously. _I’m never drinking again. Ever._

**  
**

Water was sitting on the nightstand, and Sansa thanked the gods. She grasped at it, and drained the contents with vigor. As she finished the glass, Sansa noticed a half naked sleeping Sandor on the floor. He was on his stomach, and he used one of his arms as a pillow. She noticed a tattoo on the back on back of one of his shoulder blades. Along with some other scars.  _How had I never noticed that before?_

**  
**

She looked down and noticed she was wearing his T-shirt, her bra, her underwear, and nothing else. _What happened last night?_

**  
**

She remembered sitting at the table with her family and Sandor. And wine. Lots and lots of wine. Vodka, a lot of vodka. The rest was pretty much a blur.

**  
**

Well, she did remember a lake, and a unicorn butterfly. Whatever that meant.

**  
**

With great effort, Sansa placed two feet on the floor, and pushed herself off the bed. The floor creaked, and Sansa cringed. She glanced at Sandor, and he hadn’t moved an inch. Sansa let out a silent breath.

**  
**

Grabbing a towel off of the floor, Sansa crossed the hallway into the bathroom. She turned the water on full heat, and stepped under the spray and sighed. Perfect. She ran her hands through her hair, trying to get all the knots out. She found clumps of seaweed. Weird.

**  
**

Closing her eyes, Sansa tried to remember last night. Her parents were being ridiculous, as always. The wine was delicious; the vodka was not. She remembered a lot of laughing. Sandor yelled at her. She tried to remember more, but it was a haze of alcohol and water.

**  
**

Soon, the water turned cold, and her once throbbing headache turned to a dull pressure. _That_ she could handle. This wasn’t her first rodeo.

**  
**

Wrapped in a towel, Sansa went across the hallway once more. She knelt down to her bag, and pulled out a bra, underwear, and a loose shirt and sweatpants.

**  
**

“Good morning.” A husky voice sounded from the other side of the bed.

**  
**

“Good gods!” Sansa jumped back. She almost lost the grip on her towel, causing it to slide slightly down her chest, revealing the soft curve just above her nipple.

  


Sandor sat up, and his hair was as disheveled as she had seen it. It stuck up at random points, and his five o’clock shadow was turning into a full beard. Bags were heavy under his eyes. He looked absolutely terrible. Sansa couldn’t help but start laughing at him.

**  
**

“Problem, Stark?” He rubbed his eyes, and yawned loudly.

**  
**

“No. Not at all. You look great.” She nodded for emphasis.

**  
**

Now he started to stand, and groaned as he stretched out. “Beautiful as a… what was it? Oh, a butterfly.”

**  
**

She looked at him, and tightened her grip on her towel. “What?”

**  
**

“Am I as beautiful as a butterfly?” He chuckled once more, and let his gaze drop slightly to her body.

**  
**

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Can you get out so I can change? Better yet, take a shower. You smell like fish.”

**  
**

“Only because I had to fish you out of the lake last night.” He stretched his arms above his head, causing his muscles to contract in his abdomen.

**  
**

“What?” Sansa started to blush.

**  
**

“I had no idea I was a unicorn either. I guess you learn something new everyday.” Sandor left the room with another chuckle.

**  
**

Sansa’s entire body blushed. She called him a unicorn? She called Sandor Clegane a unicorn. What? She remembered using the term with Marge when they were talking about the Bachelor. But, oh gods. None of the even matters. He’s never going to let it go. Perfect.

**  
**

She heard the shower being turned on, and then subsequent cursing from Sandor. There was no hot water left.   _Serves you right._

**  
**

The smells of breakfast wafted their way to the bedroom, and Sansa couldn’t resist. She made her way down the stairs to see her mother, father and Arya sitting in the breakfast nook enjoying leftover chocolate chip pancakes.

**  
**

“Good morning beautiful.” Arya pushed out the chair beside her, and grabbed her a plate of pancakes.

**  
**

“Morning.” Sansa gladly took the cup of coffee her mother was offering her.

**  
**

“How’d you sleep?” Cat asked as she poured syrup over her pancakes.

**  
**

“Great, actually. Whole bed to myself.”

**  
**

“Where was Sandor?” Arya stuffed her face with what looked like half of a pancake.

**  
**

“On the floor. I passed out pretty early.”

**  
**

“A bottle of wine would do that to you.” Ned smiled at his daughter.

**  
**

“True.” Sansa took a bite of pancakes and sighed. _So good._

**  
**

“That must have been so uncomfortable. Poor Sandor.” Cat pursed her lips, and pouted slightly.

**  
**

“I’m sure he’s slept in worse places.” Sansa stated as she took a sip of her coffee.

**  
**

“He must have since he was in the army.” Ned set his cup down, and gauged Sansa’s reaction.

**  
**

“Army?” Sansa’s eyes shot up. “He wasn’t in the army.”

**  
**

“He told me he was last night.”

**  
**

“I never said army,” Sandor called as he walked into the room. “I just said military.”

**  
**

Ned glared at Sandor as he took the seat next to Sansa. “Apologies.”

**  
**

Not noticing the silent exchange between her father and Sandor, Sansa looked at Sandor. “You never mentioned that you were in the army.”

**  
**

“I wasn’t in the army. I was… marines.” Sandor gratefully accepted the cup of coffee Cat handed to him.

**  
**

“That’s not surprising.” Arya muttered. “Considering he has a huge stick up his ass.”

**  
**

“Arya! That is rude.” Cat glared at her youngest daughter.

**  
**

“Sorry.” She mumbled into her plate.

**  
**

“I can’t believe I didn’t know about this.” Sansa hit Sandor in the shoulder.

**  
**

Sandor shifted uncomfortable in his seat, and shot Ned a look. As if answering his prayers, his phone started ringing. He looked at the caller ID and saw that it was work.

**  
**

“I have to take this, please excuse me.” He left the table, and started talking into his phone.

**  
**

“Catelyn, Arya would you please excuse Sansa and I as well?” Ned looked at Sandor’s back as he talked. He stood, and offered his hand to his daughter.

**  
**

Confused, Sansa took it, and followed her father to the deck.

**  
**

Ned pulled out a chair, and Sansa sat. She looked up at her father with confusion.

**  
**

“Going to tell me what this is about? Or are you going to continue to be cryptic and weird?”

**  
**

“I like him.” Were the only words he said.

**  
**

“What?”

**  
**

“Sandor, he’s good. Good for you.”

**  
**

“Oh.” Sansa looked at her father, and tried to look happy. That’s what she was supposed to do, right?

**  
**

“He stood up for you last night.”

**  
**

“Last night?”

**  
**

“After you fell asleep.” Ned chuckled.

**  
**

“Oh. What were you two talking about?”  _Poor Sandor._

**  
**

“Him. At first, I wasn’t convinced he loved you. He seems so disinterested, neutral. Joffrey was always so attentive to you, but Sandor just kind of sits there. But when he talked about you, he put you first. You need that.” Ned looked at his oldest daughter with love.

**  
**

“Daddy, are you crying?” Sansa started tearing up despite herself.

**  
**

“No. No, of course not.” But as he said it, his eyes started tearing up. “I love you. And I need you to be happy. I think Sandor is going to do that for you.”

**  
** “I hope so.”

_  
_

_This is going to be so awkward._    



	11. A Terrible Horrific Hound

“No, Bronn, everything needs to be there by Monday.” Sandor stood out by his truck, looking up at Sansa and Ned. They seemed to be having a serious conversation.

“Are you actually going to be here?” Bronn’s voice was overpowered by the sounds of power tools in the background.

“Obviously.” Sandor squinted his eyes up to the deck when he saw Sansa hug her father.

“Well, I’m just saying, some guys are getting concerned. You’re darting off with some girl, leaving your men to do what you’re supposed to be leading-”

“Bronn, you said didn’t have a problem being in charge of this for a week.”

“I don’t. More money for me. Always a good thing. When do we get to meet your fiance anyway?” Bronn laughed, and then started yelling at some guy in the background.

“I told you; we’re not actually engaged.” Sandor lowered his voice, in case Cat somehow appeared.

“You say that now. But you haven’t as so much mentioned a female in the fifteen years I’ve known you. Now, you go with the girl you’ve lived next to for years, and nothing is going to happen? You’re a fucking a parakeet if you think that.”

“Parakeet?” Sandor started to laugh, but cut himself off. “Asshole. Aren’t you supposed to get some actual work done?”

“We’re actually ahead of schedule, ass wipe.” Sandor heard Bronn sit in a chair.

“Get the fuck out of my office.” Sandor leaned against his truck, and glanced back up to the deck. They were gone.

“No. And there’s not much you can do about it.” Bronn let out a laugh,  “So how’s the little bird?”

“She’s fine.”

“Fine? Is that it? Are you sure?” Bronn raised his voice in mock interrogation.

“Positive, sweet cheeks.”

“Are you at least having a fun time? Drinking lots?”

“Okay, mother.” Sandor laughed as he hung up the phone.

As he started to go back into the house, he noticed Arya leaning against the other side of his truck. She held a cigarette between her left pointer and middle fingers. She inhaled deeply, and blew the smoke in his direction.

Sandor turned his head to the side, and coughed slightly. “Those things will kill you.”

“Let’s not talk about my bad habits.” She smirked at him.

“Is there something you want to talk about?”

“You need to be more careful. My brothers or my mother could have heard you.” Arya bit her lip, and then shook her head. “Why did you even go along with it?”

“What?”

“Why did you go along with Sansa?”

“I didn’t really have a choice.” Sandor rubbed a hand across his face.

“I doubt that.” Arya laughed, and rubbed out the cigarette on the ground.

“You’d be surprised.” Sandor remembered the bruise she’d given him, and how it was now bright green and blue on his side.

“She told me about the occupation of your apartment. Still, doesn’t make sense. You’re a loner. That much is obvious.”

“Yes…” Sandor raised an eyebrow at her.

“Why did you agree to spend a week with complete strangers? She pay you?” Arya stepped closer; this was a full on confrontation.

“I’m not going to talk about this with you, Arya.” Sandor turned away, and started walking back to the house.

“This isn’t over, Clegane!” Arya shouted from his truck, and disappeared into the garage.

As Sandor walked up the steps, he heard Sansa talking with her mother. He stopped just outside the door. He knew he shouldn’t eavesdrop, but hell, who cares? He was forced into this anyway.

“He is very likeable, in a stoic kind of manner. He’s shy; that’s so adorable.” Cat gushed to Sansa.

“Mom, you can stop selling him to me. I know what he’s like.” Sansa’s tone was clipped.

“Yes, of course, of course. I’m just happy you’ve found someone, that’s all. And to hear he’s a military man, that’s exciting. Have you started looking for venues for the wedding? You’re doing a spring wedding right? Or will you be winter bride? You aren’t going to wait, are you?”

Sounding as if she had no intention of stopping, Sandor walked into the kitchen. “Hello, ladies.”

Cat turned and put on a bright smile, “Sandor! Is everything with work okay?”

“Yes, some orders came in that weren’t supposed to until next week. All very trivial matters that can be handled on their end.” Sandor glanced at Sansa, and held his hand out to her, “Want to go for a walk?”

Sansa looked at him skeptically, but took his hand anyway. “Sure.”

“Don’t stray too far. Ned wants us to go out tonight, just the adults.” Cat giggled to herself.

“Mom, it’s like noon.” Sansa rolled her eyes, and twitched her hand uncomfortably in Sandor’s.

“Well, you never know what detours may arise.” She winked at Sandor, and turned back to the sink.

“Whatever.” Sansa shook her head, then pulled Sandor out the front door.

As they walked down the steps, Sansa tightened her fingers against Sandors. Her hair was braided down her back, and she had changed from sweatpants to shorts and a tank top. She wore complicated sandals, and what looked rings on her toes. _What? They made jewelry for your toes?_

“Thanks,” Sansa whispered when they far away from the house, heading into the woods on a faded trail.

“For what?” Sandor looked down at her, and she looked back up at him.

“You know what. Mom wouldn’t have stopped until I answered all of her questions. It’s crazy how intense she can be about this sort of stuff.”

“I hadn’t noticed.” Sandor laughed, which in turn made Sansa laugh as well.

“I’m also going to apologize about my dad. He told me about some of your conversation yesterday, and it didn’t sound like it was that pleasant on your part.” She laughed softly, but kept her eyes straight ahead.

“It wasn’t that terrible. Awkward beyond all belief, yes. But it wasn’t…” He trailed off, and he snuck a glance at her, and noticed she was looking up at him.

“You told him you liked the way I dance when there’s no music. And how I randomly kick the air.” She tightened her hand in his, and it made him realize they were still holding hands.

Out of reflex, he pulled his hand back. “I had to come up with something, didn’t I?”

Sansa grasped at her left arm with the hand that had just been in his, “Well, he loves you. He thinks you’re perfect.”

Sandor stopped walking, and looked at Sansa with both eyebrows raised. “That is not the impression I got from him last night.”

“Yeah, he doesn’t really show a lot of emotion to strangers. But he said you’re deeply in love with me. So there’s that.” She smirked at him, and started walking again.

Sandor stayed where he was, utterly dumbstruck. When Sansa got to about ten meters from him, he jogged to catch up.

“What? He said what?”

She got to be in front of him, and turned to face him, walking backwards, “You, Sandor Clegane, are in love with me. According to my father and my mother.”

“And according to you last night, I’m a unicorn. Not everyone knows everything.”

“That’s not fair; I was drunk!” Sansa stopped walking, causing Sandor to run into her.

The momentum of their impact caused Sandor to tumble on top of Sansa. Sandor’s wight practically cut off Sansa’s air supply. Twigs and rocks poked into her back.

Bracing himself on an elbow, Sandor looked down at Sansa. He was on top of her. He felt her chest heaving with each breath.

“Ugh, you are despicable.” Sansa breathed out, and tried moving herself to get a rock out of her skin, but whenever she lifted her hips they grazed Sandor’s. And that was something she did _not_ want.

“You’re the one that wanted me to come with.” Sandor glared back down at her.

“I did not want you to come with; I had no choice!” Sansa raised her voice, and whipped her head to the side so she wouldn’t have to look at him.

“Are you mad at me because I fell on you? Or because your father thinks I’m in love with you?” Sandor adjusted himself again, taking most of his weight off of her.

“Both. You were supposed to be you this week! You were supposed to be this horrible person, the person who lives next door to me! And what are you doing? You’re being pleasant! You’re joking with my mother, my brothers. You impressed my dad! You deal with Arya! That’s not what we agreed on. You ruined everything.” Sansa hit him on the chest to emphasize her point.

With an indignant sigh, Sandor stood up, “You really think I am this horrible hound?”

Without a thought to it, he offered her a hand. She took it.

“Of course not. It’s just… my family likes you. They really like you. And worse, my mom is actually talking to me now. She seems interested in talking to me now, but only if it’s about a wedding.” Tears started welling up in her eyes. “It’s like they like you better than me. It’s so stupid, but I just want her to be interested in me.”

“That’s not stupid, Sansa.” Sandor stood a foot from her, and more tears kept dripping down her cheeks.

“I’m being ridiculous. Sorry.” She furiously wiped at her eyes, but the tears wouldn’t stop.

Silently, he moved closer to her, and then wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She leaned into his shoulder, mimicking her movements of the night before.

He pulled her closer, and put his other arm around her. She cried quietly into his shoulder, and he awkwardly patted her back.

“You know, you wanted to become a mermaid yesterday. Maybe that can be plan B?”

Her laughter was muffled by his shirt, “You’re not funny.”

“If I was trying to be funny, I would mention your magic waffles.”

Sansa lifted her head to reveal a confused expression, “What in the seven are you talking about?”

“You really shouldn’t drink.” He laughed when she did.

“Why did you let me?” Sansa stepped back, thankful for the change in topic.

“There was no stopping you. After I got you out of the lake, you were a goner.” Sandor started to follow her on the trail again.

“Oh gods. That’s so embarrassing.” She brought her hands up to her hair, and began to pull out various twigs and leaves from it.

“There has been worse. Don’t forget the strip tease.” He laughed, and Sansa stared at his lips for a few moments, and then looked away.

“That is true.” She bit her lip, “Sandor, could I ask you a question?”

“I suppose.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about the military?”

He swallowed and looked at her, “It’s just not something I like to talk about.”

“Marines though. That just doesn’t seem like something you just leave.”

“Well it didn’t end very pretty.” Sandor half laughed at the memory.

“What’s funny?” Sansa bumped her shoulder into his, “Come on, tell me.”

“It’s not that funny, really it’s not.” He smiled at her, and gave in. “It about I how left. That’s all. I told my commanding officer to fuck himself. And a horse. And maybe his own mother.”

Sansa stopped walking, trying to process what he had just told her. “You are a terrible person!”

He laughed, “A terrible, horrific hound.”

“How old were you when you did that?” Sansa looked concerned.

“About twenty-three I believe. I discharged quickly after that; I wasn’t meant for the military.”

“You told someone to… oh goodness. I don’t I’ve never even said that word.” She looked up at him with doe-like eyes.

“You’ve never said fuck?” Sandor was the one to look bewildered.

“I don’t think so, it just seems so _rude_.” Sansa made a face.

**  
“You really are a just an innocent little bird.” Sandor laughed, and threw an arm around her shoulders.**


	12. They Spun In Circles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you're getting this chapter now bc I won't be able to update for the next few days! 
> 
> much love xoxo

“Well, it’s about time you lovebirds got back here.” Arya was leaning against the railing of the desk, with a phone pressed against her ear.

“It’s barely two o’clock!” Sansa called back to her; Sandor followed closely behind her.

  
“Mother dear is freaking out about lunch, and how you two weren’t there. She’s in the kitchen right now, banging dishes around.” Arya laughed a bit.

Sansa rolled her still-red eyes, leaned her back, and inhaled deeply.

“Don’t be overdramatic, princess. She’ll forgive you in ten seconds.” Someone on the other of the phone started talking in her ear, “No, not you. Calm down.”

“Who are you talking to?” Sandor spoke up.

“None of your business.” She stuck her tongue out.

“She’s twelve, I swear.” Sansa started up the steps, and then turned her head to whisper to Sandor, “It’s that guy I was telling you about.”

“Oh,” Sandor widened his eyes in mock understanding.

“Don’t you remember?” Sansa whipped her hair to the side, and swung open the door that led to the kitchen. “Hey, mom!”

“Sansa! Sandor! Why weren’t you two at lunch? I made lemon cakes!” Cat held up a container of said lemon cakes to prove her point.

“Sorry, but you knew we went on a walk. You said to be back by six because we were all going out.” Sansa grabbed one of the lemon cakes, and took a small bite. Just as good as she remembered.

“Your father and I can’t go anymore. He set up some stupid dinner with some old friends. Ridiculous. But we still have our reservations at the Garden, so you two, Arya, Robb, and Jon are going to go. Bran and Rickon will stay here.” Cat continued to throw dishes into the dishwasher.

“Oh, no. We can just go out tomorrow.” Sansa smiled at her mother, hoping that she wouldn’t make them go out.

“We can’t tomorrow, we have the barbeque with the neighbors.”

“I thought you said that wasn’t happening?”

Sandor looked between the two women, utterly confused.

“It wasn’t, but then I told everyone about your engagement, and they all want to see you before you get married. As if they wouldn’t be invited to wedding!”

Sansa stared at her mother, trying to come up with something to say.  But Sandor spoke up, “Mrs. Stark, that was kind of you, but Sansa and I weren’t planning on telling people about the engagement quite yet.”

“It’s only some close friends and family, Sandor. Don’t be too tense about it. Everyone is going to know about it anyway, right?” Cat glanced at her daughter, and then at Sandor. “Right?”

“Of course. Of course, mom. This is fine.” Sansa walked away, leaving Sandor and her mother in the kitchen.

“Well, I wonder bit her in the behind, and left her so bitter?” Cat laughed.

“‘Excuse me as I say this, Mrs. Stark, but you should really start listening to your daughter instead of speaking for her.”

Sandor didn’t wait long enough to hear her reaction.

***

Later that night, the four Stark children and Sandor sat in a curved booth in the corner of the Garden. The Garden was a local restaurant that was very small and intimate. The lighting was dimmed, and local singers and bands played on the small stage. A dance floor encompassed the middle of the room, and the dining was all around and outside on the patio.

Sandor hated it.

Sansa loved it.

Arya had been voted the designated driver, since she was the only one under twenty-one. She sipped at her water as she glared at her two older brothers with disdain. Robb and Jon were getting stupidly drunk. They ordered shots, and whiskey. They were laughing louder than anyone else in the whole restaurant.

Sansa was still on her first glass of wine, and Sandor was on his third glass of scotch. The two of them had stayed quiet most of the evening. It wasn’t that difficult, seeing as Robb and Jon didn’t let any room for conversation.

“Hey, bro, remember the time you-”

“And you -”

“And then Mom -”

“And Dad screamed -”

“Awesome!”

Then they would both cheer, drink again, and laugh.

“Maybe you two should drink some water,” Sandor offered his glass of water to Robb, and Sansa offered hers to Jon.

“Hey.  We’re perfectly aquatic.” Robb burst into laughter.

“Aquatic? No, you mean aqueduct.” Jon hit his brother in the shoulder.

“Adequate, you buffoons.” Sansa laughed, and noticed Arya was recording all of it on her phone, which made her laugh harder.

Suddenly, Robb shot up. “Hey. Waiter, we have an engagement! My sister is engaged to this dude! Can we play a song for them?”

The waiter came over, and politely asked Robb sit down, and then offered his congratulations to the couple.

“You guys need to dance!” Jon practically bellowed to the pair of them.

“We really don’t.” Sandor shook his head.

“You really do.” And with that Jon stood, and made his way over to the band that was playing. He whispered to the singer, who smiled back and nodded his head.

“Alright, looks we have a special couple out there tonight. This one is for you Sansa and Sandor.” The band started a soft tune, and the singer started singing smoothly.

“I hate my family.” Sansa buried her face in her hands.

“Dance. Now.” Arya sat up; her face was full mischief.

Sansa looked at Sandor, “They’re not going to stop until we freaking dance.”  

“I’m not dancing.” Sandor looked her in the eye as he answered. He finished off his drink.

“Oh, yes you are.” Arya kicked him under the table. “Don’t want anyone thinking you’re not in love now, do we?”

“Ugh, fine.” Sandor stood, and held out his hand.

Sansa took it, and shot Arya a nasty look as she followed Sandor to the dance floor.

Sandor tentatively placed a hand on Sansa’s hip, and she placed a hand on his shoulder. She looked up at Sandor, and couldn’t help but start to giggle.

“What?” Sandor gazed down at her, and slowly they  begin to circle around each other.

“It’s just so ridiculous. We used to hate each other so much.” She bit her lip, and looked around. They weren’t the only couple on the dance floor; older couples flittered around them, and few pairs of kids as well.

Sandor leaned down close to her ear, and whispered, “Can I tell you secret?”

She flicked her eyes up to his, and whispered back, “Sure.”

“I don’t know how to dance.” He spun her around, and brought her back.

She gripped his bicep, and they started on their original pace. She started to laugh, “Neither can I.”

“Oh, good this just made it way less awkward.” Sandor laughed once more, and they spun in some more circles.

When the song ended, they started to make their way back to the table, but her brothers had different plans.

“You only danced for half of a song.” Robb started explaining in slurred speech.

“You have to dance for at least a whole song.” Jon added.

“Bad luck otherwise.” Arya winked at her sister.

The song was much slower the one that preceded it, so Sansa let Sandor do most of the work. It was nearing midnight by now, and she was exhausted. Defeated, she rested her head on his chest.

“It’s a good thing you’re a giant.” Sansa informed Sandor.

“Hmm?” Sandor opened his eyes and looked down at her.

“I said, it’s perfect that you’re so short. It gives me the dominance in this relationship.” Sansa giggled.

“Whatever, Stark.” Sandor smirked, and Sansa dropped her head back onto his chest.

“It’s a shame you’re not more squishy.” She wrapped her arms around his neck.

“You mean you don’t love my chiseled physique?”

Sansa bursted out laughing, and dug her face deeper into his chest. “It’s terrible; awful eyesore. You have to start eating donuts, now.”

“I’ll get right on that.”

For some time, they spun in circles. One song faded into the next. Couples left the dance floor, until they were alone. The lights were being turned off they got closer to closing time. Sansa’s head laid on Sandor’s chest, and his hand was absentmindedly tracing shapes on her back.

When the music stopped, Sansa opened her eyes, and lifted her head to see the restaurant was empty except for the staff. She blinked up towards Sandor to see the same dazed expression on his face.

“Would you look at that?” Sandor looked around, and stepped away from Sansa.

The waiter from earlier came up to the two of them, “Your family left just a little while ago. Your sister left a cab outside for you.”

“Oh, thank you.” Sansa called after him.

“Should we go?” Sandor gestured to the door, and slowly started walking.

“Wait, I just need to....” she started to take off her sandals, when they popped off, she let out a soft, “Ahh.”

“What are you doing?” Sandor stared at her, and then glanced at the staff a couple of times.

“What does it look like?” She held her shoes in one hand and her purse in the other. “Let’s go.”

“Ow, ow, ow, ow.” chanted Sansa as she walked on the rocky pathway once they made it outside.

“Will you stop that?” Sandor snapped at her, and saw the cab sitting about thirty feet ahead.

“No, it hurts.” Sansa whined, and shrieked when a rock went into the pad of her foot.

“You are such a child.” Sandor accused her as he crouched down next to her, and lifted her from her thighs.

“What in the seven are you doing?” Sansa cried out.

Adjusting her so that she was over his shoulder, he started walking towards the cab once again.

“This is the second time I’ve to pick you up because you can’t properly function.”

“I was functioning perfectly fine!” Sansa hit his back with her fists repeatedly.

“Ow! Ow! Ow!” Sandor mimicked her high pitched yelps, which in return she continued to hit him.

“You’re just a brute.” She decided.

He set down when they got be just outside the cab.

“Better now?” He chuckled.

“Much.”

****

It had taken Sansa less than five minutes to fall asleep in the cab. She passed out on Sandor’s shoulder. He carried her up the stairs for the second night in a row, and laid her down in bed.

He stripped his shirt and pants, and threw on some old basketball shorts. He passed out on the floor, the same spot as the night previous.

Hours later Sansa woke up with an itch in the back of her throat. She reached for the glass of water on the nightstand, and was disappointed to find it empty.

She stood on wobbly legs, and stretched. Taking the glass with her, she started down the steps she’d walked so many times before. She reached the bottom of the steps, and turned into a pitch black kitchen.

Holding out her hands, she took small steps forward, being careful not to hit anything. It was when she felt flesh, she had to stifle a scream. A hand reached out and covered her mouth.

A tall figure made a faint impression in the dark kitchen. It pulled her closer until their bodies were practically touching.

“You are so loud.” A tired Sandor whispered.

Sansa ripped her face away from her hand, and in an angry whisper said, “What is wrong with you?”

“What?” He whispered back.

“You’re lurking around in my kitchen!” He didn’t know how she did it, but she could still scream in a whisper.

“I was getting a glass of water.” He couldn’t see her, but he could feel her body heat.

“Oh, I’m sure.” Sansa made a move towards the sink, but ran into him. “Do you ever wear a shirt? Like seriously?”

Again she put her hand out, and accidentally groped one of his muscles.

“That would be my boob.” He stated matter-of-factly.

Sansa pulled her hand back, and made a sound of disgust.   _That’s a nice boob._

“You know you love my muscles, Sansa. Stop denying it.” He chuckled softly.

“I do not!” She forgot to whisper, and a dog that was lying in the living room started barking.

“Look at what you did,” Sansa glared at him. Or at least she hoped she did; she couldn’t actually see anything.

“What is it Scout?” Ned’s voice came from the top of the stair.

When the hall light illuminated house, Sansa jumped. She looked at Sandor to see his hair disheveled, and his eyes tired. But it wasn’t the same as this morning, now, it looked… _sexy_.

Without thinking, Sansa started hitting Sandor on the arm, and motioned towards the door on the other side of the kitchen.

“Ow, what are you doing?” Sandor whispered at her.

“Would you please just move it?” Sansa pushed him into the closet and closed the door as Ned walked into the kitchen.

Inside the small space, Sandor was pressed against Sansa. Her back was against the wall, and her chest was against his. Their breath was ragged and uneven.

“What the hell, Stark?” Sandor whispered into her ear.

“Shh,” Sansa pressed her ear against the door. She heard her father talking with her mother.

“Ned, what are you doing?” Cat’s voice was rougher than usual.

“Scout started barking. She never barks.” More lights were switched on.

“Well, there’s nobody down here. Now come back to bed.”

“But I thought I heard someone,” creaks against the hardwood sounded closer to the pantry, and Sansa stiffened her entire body.

“Well, we’re down here,” something in her mother’s voice changed. “You can kiss me now, if you want.”

Sansa made a gagging noise, and Sandor was silently laughing. The shaking of his shoulders caused Sansa’s to shake as well.

Soon, they couldn’t hear anymore words from outside the door. Only the occasional moan, and that is something Sansa did not like to hear.

Reaching her hand up, Sansa found the string that was connected to the light bulb. With a quick hard tug, the small space lit up, and Sansa could tell just how tiny this closet actually was. Sandor couldn’t take a step back if he wanted to, and Sansa was forced to have one of her arms up, so she rested it on his shoulder.

They both tried to ignore how close they were to each other,  but their eyes kept drifting down. One of Sansa’s legs was fitted between his, and he placed both arms on either side of her on a shelf. The fit together like puzzle pieces.

She licked her lips as she pressed her ear against the door. Sandor followed her tongue with his eyes, and he didn’t know if it was because of the alcohol in his system or what, but he wanted to kiss her.

She glanced over at him, and made a face, “What?”

He shook his head, “Nothing.”

She straightened herself, and their faces were mere inches apart. She took this opportunity to look at his face while he was studying the boxes of pasta behind her.

His beard covered a lot of his scars; they had faded somewhat in the years she had known him. They created delicate designs around half of his face, and Sansa knew he was insecure about them, but to her they were art. Artwork that he carried around with him everyday. It proved that he survived something that must have been terrible.

**  
When he looked at her, she couldn’t stop herself, she brought her lips closer to his. He didn’t pull away, but he didn’t move closer either. She felt the heat of his breath on her skin, and she just began to feel the hairs of his beard tickle her lips when the door opened.**


	13. Out With It

Catelyn stared at her daughter with a mixture of surprise and horror. Ned stood behind his wife, openly glared at Sandor. Sansa’s arms were almost wrapped around Sandor’s neck, and Sandor’s face was dipped down, less than an inch from her face.

“Sansa… Sandor… this is- well - how long have you been in here?” Cat brought a hand to her face, and looked back at her husband.

Sansa tried bringing her arms down, but ended up banging her elbow on a shelf behind her. She cried out, and then accidentally hit Sandor in the neck when she brought her arms back up.

“Oh, gods. Are you okay?” Sansa gingerly traced her fingers on his neck where a red mark was blossoming.

“Seven hells.” Sandor hissed out.

“Language.” was all Ned warned.

“Sorry, sir.” Sandor’s arms were still around Sansa’s torso. He was becoming increasingly aware of Sansa’s leg between his thighs. Moving his body slightly and her leg skimmed inched higher. He held back a groan, and his eyes met with Sansa’s. They were both silently screaming for a way out of this.

“It’s not what it looks like, Mom.” Sansa looked towards her mother with an intense look of shame. She tried to move away from Sandor, but there was no room. Her arms were starting to fall asleep.

Ned started to walk away, but turned back to Sansa when he got to the doorway, “Are you a teenager, Sansa? Sneaking around at all hours of the night? I mean for the gods’ sakes, you two are already sharing a bedroom, what more do you want?”

Squirming her way out of the closet with a flailing of limbs, she pushed her mother out of the way. Sansa called after her father “Are you mad at me?”

Ned shot Sandor a look,”I thought I would see more maturity from you, that’s all.”

“It was my fault, sir. I was down here getting a glass of water, and then Sansa came down. We were talking - just talking- when we heard you coming down the stairs. I panicked, and pushed us into the closet. We were going to get out once you left, but then we started to hear... I’m sure you can guess.” Sandor watched as Ned’s demeanour slowly turned from commanding to embarrassed in seconds.

But Cat was the one to speak, “Oh, it’s not what it sounded like, Ned was just giving me a… ah, footrub?”

“Ew! Mom, never say that again.” Sansa covered her ears, and made a gagging noises.

Ned stepped closer to Sandor, and held out his hand. Sandor took it and gave it a firm shake. Ned pulled him closer, and whispered in his ear, “I say we both forget what we saw… and heard.”

Sandor bit back a life, “Yes, sir.”

“Cat let’s go back to bed.” Ned held out his arm for her, and she took it, laying her head against his shoulder.

When Sandor turned around, Sansa was already printing up the stairs.

***

****  
  


“Margaery answer your phone. This is an emergency!” Sansa practically shouted into her phone as she was directed to voicemail once more.

Punching in the numbers again, Sansa tapped her foot against the wooden deck, but that didn’t help, so she started pacing.

The phone rang four times before she got an answer, “Ms. Tyrell’s phone.”

“Where is Margaery?” Sansa had to control her voice.

“She is currently finishing up a meeting; I could leave a message for you, and have Ms. Tyrell call you back.” Her assistant’s voice was light and airy.

“I already left a dozen messages.” Sansa breathed in, “Could you please tell her that Sansa Stark called, and that this issue is of the most dire importance, and if she doesn’t call me back I’ll die? Thanks.”

Sansa hung up the phone, and sat back down. She looked out over the lake. It was almost midday by now, and the sun was hiding behind some clouds. Her family was fishing off the dock, all silent. Her youngest brothers were punching each other, and her mother ignored them.

She still hadn’t spoken to her parents yet,and she really didn’t want to. It would be awkward around the house for a couple of days, but in a couple of days, she and Sandor would be back home, and all of this would be forgotten.

Could she forget it? They almost kissed, and not like a ‘oh, hey. our parents want to see us kiss, so here’s a peck on the cheek.’, but a ‘your face makes me feel things I’ve never felt before, and I want my lips to be on yours forever.’ kind of kiss.

_This is why I need to talk to Marge_ , Sansa leaned back, and raked her hands across her face. She groaned, and then yawned.

When her phone started to buzz, she gripped at it, and answered. “Marge.”

“... No. It’s Myranda.” Her assistant mumbled into the phone.

“What is it?”

“It’s just that…”

“Out with it.” Sansa ordered.

“You… um, well. It’s not that big, really. Maybe I shouldn’t have called you.” Her assistant stumbled over her words.

“You already called me, _so out with it._ ” Sansa knew she was being short with her, but know was not the time to be annoying her with trivial things.

“Joffrey left you flowers.” Her words came out in a rush.

Sansa stopped fidgeting, her face turned to stone. “Throw them.”

“But, they’re like huge. He left you a note, a letter really.” Sansa could hear Myranda tapping her pen against the receiver on her office phone.

“Keep them then. But get them out of my office. If they’re in my office when I get there, you won’t have a job. Burn the note, or letter, or whatever.” Sansa breathed in, when it sounded like Myranda was going to speak, Sansa interrupted her, “No, sorry. I don’t mean that. You are fantastic and wonderful, but you know how much I hate him. Could you please just throw them away?”

“Of course, Miss Stark.” Myranda ended the call.

Sansa leaned her head back, and felt like crying. Why? She had no idea. He wasn’t in her life anymore. She had Sandor.

Wait. No. No no no no. No. No, she didn’t. _Oh gods,_ she cradled her head in her hands.

Her phone started to buzz again, and she read the caller ID, and saw that it was her best friend.

“Margaery.” Sansa practically yelled.

“Sansa!” Marge called back into her phone. “What is the dire emergency? I mean, gods, could you leave me anymore voicemails? I mean, there were like a dozen-”

“I almost kissed Sandor.” Sansa interrupted.

“Ooh, honey, get it.”

“No. No. No. This is really bad.” Sansa shut her eyes, and she could only see Sandor’s face.

“Oh, okay. Serious. Go.” She breathed in, and then Sansa heard her knuckled crack. “When? Where? How? Why?”

“Last night or this morning, I don’t know it was really early, or late. I don’t know I didn’t go back to bed. In the pantry. It was a really tight space, and his lips were right there. What else was I supposed to do?”

“Maybe, not kiss him.” Marge laughed at her own joke. “Sorry. Why were you in the pantry? In the middle of the night?”

“It’s a really long story, but pretty much, I went down to get a drink of water because I was dying of thirst, and I hadn’t had anything to drink since we were dancing earlier that night-”

“Dancing? Like mosh pit dancing, grinding, or slow dancing?” Marge’s voice turned to business.

“Slow dancing, but that’s an even longer story. So anyway, I’m feeling my way around the pitch black kitchen, and I feel flesh. I freak out, obviously. His hand comes out of nowhere, and covers my mouth. I figure out it’s Sandor. Which I’m sure you guessed by now.”

“Yes.”

“And I can barely see anything, so I put my hand out again, and I grope his boob. It was a really nice boob.”

“By boob do you mean his pectoral muscle?”

“Obviously, Margaery we can’t get stuck on the obvious.” Sansa started pacing once more.

“Sorry.”

“So we start arguing about something, and then my dad starts coming down the stairs, and for some reason I push him into the closet.” Sansa was running out of breath. She inhaled, and then waited for Marge to respond.

“Why? Why did you push him into the closet?” Margaery sounded very much confused.

“I don’t know!” I’m freaking out. Once we were hiding out in there, we practically intertwined at each limb. His face was this close to mine, and my arms were on his shoulders, and my leg was in between his. I was looking at his face, and he is… real. He’s not the pretty boy that I’ve been around, he’s real. He has scars that he won’t talk about. He was in the military. He jokes with my family. He jokes with me. He’s a jerk, obviously. But maybe he isn’t as big of a jerk as I thought.”

“Oh, honey. You’re in deep.”

“What? No, I’m not. I hate him, remember? He’s a jerk. He’s rude. He always makes fun of me. He’s mean. He’s terrible. I don’t like him. He’s too old for me. He doesn’t like kids. He doesn’t like puppies.”

“Do you know he doesn’t like puppies?”

“Well, no. But I’m sure… his voice is too deep.” Sansa was scrounging for reasons at this point.

“His voice? Are you insane, Stark? Just kiss the man, and if the kiss sucks then you found your answer.”

Sansa pondered for a moment, “But what if it doesn’t suck?”

“Then you have your answer.”

“You aren’t helping me. You’re supposed to tell me that he’s a terrible jerk. Pompous butt. You know?”

“You’re a grown woman, you can say ass.” Marge scolded her friend.

“I’d rather not. No getting off of subject. What would have happened if we kissed?” Sansa plopped onto the swing again, and pinched at her nose.

“Well, what did you feel before you didn’t kiss?”

“I don’t know… a tugging? No, well maybe. It felt like electricity. Like if our lips actually did touch, we would burst into flames. It was wonderful. But horrifying at the same time. I’ve never felt that. Maybe it was because we were in the pantry.”

“No, I don’t think so, hun. I think you’re falling in love.” Marge smiled, and sweetness poured from her voice. “I’m happy you’re finally feeling this.”

“I am not in love with Sandor Clegane.” With that Sansa hung up the phone.

**  
She turned to go back into the house to see Sandor standing by the door.**


	14. Emergency At Work, Call You Later

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please don't hate me.

Sansa stared at Sandor like a deer in headlights. They both looked each other in the eye. Neither moved. Sandor’s body was frozen as he was grabbing for the door. Sansa couldn’t tell if she was breathing. Was he breathing? Was she breathing?

Sansa opened her mouth to say something. When words failed her, she followed her instincts. She ran. She turned the other way, and darted down the stairs, across the driveway and into the woods. She didn’t look back.

The sounds of faint yelling trailed after her; he was calling her name.

_Oh gods. Oh no. Shoot. This is bad. So bad. I’m dead. I’m dreaming. I’m dead. No_.

When she saw the lake, she stopped running. This part of the beach was small and secluded, and no one would think to look for her there. Especially not Sandor.

Maybe he didn’t even hear anything. Maybe he was just walking up as she hung up the phone. Maybe he was walking out of the house, and heard nothing.  Maybe he heard everything. Maybe he’s packing his bags right now. Maybe she’ll never get to kiss him.

_Whoa. That’s not important._

Rustling sounded behind her, along with heavy footsteps. Sansa panicked and ran behind a tree. She closed her eyes, and hoped whoever it was wouldn’t find her.

Her hopes were short lived. Sandor stood over her, slightly out of breath.

He was obviously trying not to laugh, but when he spoke his voice was chilling, “What the hell, Stark?”

Sansa stood unsteadily, “I… uh, I… can explain.” She ran again. Straight into the lake. She got to hip level when Sandor grabbed her arm.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Sandor stood in the lake in his running shoes and jeans. She was wearing sandals and a maxi dress.

Without making eye contact, Sansa mumbled her answer, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Why do you keep running from me?” Sandor took his hand from her arm.

“I’m not running,” Sansa flicked her eyes up to his, and darted them away again.

“You took off full sprint into the freaking woods. You ran into the lake, what is wrong with you?” Sandor raised his voice as he spoke.

“I…” Sansa looked up at him, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Why don’t you tell me what that phone call was about?” Sandor’s mouth set in a thin line.

“You’re listening in on my calls now are you?” Sansa snapped back at him.

“You were talking about me.” Sandor took a step back, giving Sansa room to breathe.

“That doesn’t give you an excuse to eavesdrop. You don’t know the context of the call. You don’t know anything!” For some reason, Sansa started shouting. She didn’t know why, but she was mad. She was upset; not at Sandor, but at _something_. And he was here.

“Then tell me. Tell me, Sansa.” His tone was forceful; his face looked desperate. His eyes searched her face for an unspoken answer, but Sansa wouldn’t give it to him.

“Tell you what? Gods, you’re so obtuse.” Sansa turned away from him, biting her lip. She didn’t know what to tell him. What did she want to tell him?

“Tell me everything… Tell me something. Tell me anything.” He moved towards her, but stopped himself. His eyes locked with hers, and she had break the gaze. She couldn’t do this. She didn’t know what she wanted.

“What is wrong with you? What happened to Sandor? What happened to the man that would slam the door shut in my face? The one that would yell at me for singing? The one that was an obnoxious jerk?” Sansa was spitting out her words now. “Gods, I don’t even know you.”

Sandor did take a step forward this time, and Sansa forced herself to stay where she was.

“Is that what you think? I… I never thought you would be like this.” Sandor’s hand twitched, and he wanted nothing more than to touch her face. To live in the moment of the pantry, to be almost kissing her lips. 

“Be like what? Human?” Sansa glared at him. She wasn’t mad at him, she wasn’t. But she was furious. Furious with herself, her emotions, her family, and this whole situation.

Sandor thought for a slight moment, and then looked her softly in the eye, “No, hateful.”

He turned, and waded out of the water.

Sansa stood speechless in the lake. She stared after him, and the tears started to drip down her cheeks in heavy drops.

She wanted to call after him, explain everything going through her mind, but she couldn’t. When had they started playing all these games?

***

Sansa stayed out in the secluded beach as the sun rose in the sky and began to sink into the horizon. She watched the sky turn from blue to purple to pink, and now it was almost black. the stars’ light reflected on the smooth surface of the lake, creating more light as the sun vanished. The air across the lake was no longer refreshing, but cold. The sounds of the surrounding woods amplified as the night took over.

But still, Sansa sat at the edge of the water, her toes dancing against the shallow waves. Tears dried in cracks on her cheeks, and her eyes were blank as she gazed across the water. Her arms were covered in goose prickles, and she could no longer feel her toes. But still, she sat.

Absentmindedly, she traced patterns on her thigh. She tried to recreate the patterns that Sandor placed on her back. It felt like seconds ago, his fingertips seared into her skin.

But, no she didn’t love him. She couldn’t love him. He was the one person in the world she couldn’t fall in love with. She knew nothing about him. How had he always been such a terrible person, but now he’s decent? How is that possible?

Sansa felt herself start to cry again when she heard footsteps crunch against the sand. She didn’t bother to look as her sister plopped down.

“You’ve been here all day.” Arya placed an apple on her sister’s knee.

“I’m not hungry.” Sansa took the apple, and played with the sticker.

“I know. Sandor talked me, sort of. He’s not a man of many words. I don’t know what you see in him.”

“Not now, Arya.” Sansa rubbed her eyes, and stretched her back.

“I’m not blind, Sansa. I know you are getting feelings for him.” Arya wrapped an arm around her sister’s shoulders. Sansa laid her head on Arya’s shoulder.

“I am not.” Sansa sniffled. Arya handed her a tissue.

“Okay, take your time. You’ll figure it out eventually.” Arya started to rub circles into Sansa’s arm, just as their mother did when they were comforting them.

“When did you get so nice?”

“I’ve always been nice, asshole.” Arya laughed, “You just never need me to be nice. It’s refreshing to be useful.”

“You’re so much better at this than Mom. She would tell me to bake a pie or something.”

Arya snorted at that, “She doesn’t give a damn. Honestly, I love her to death. I know she loves us to death. But she just doesn’t get it. We’re independent bitches, and we don’t need no man.”

Sansa tried to bite back laughter, but she couldn’t. Together, they giggled about the stupidest things. They reminisced about their childhood, and they laughed about Arya’s new boyfriend. The sounds of their happiness drifted across the lake.

“Sansa, do you like him? Because the way you two were dancing last night made it seem as if you weren’t faking it.” Arya’s voice was soft, almost a whisper.

“I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t want to. He’s rude and mean. He has never been nice to me before, but now he’s almost human. I don’t know what my brain is doing.”

“I know. I get that; I really do. But don’t over think it. You always over think. It ruins things for you. Live in the moment. Love the stupid things. That’s how you stay sane. Kiss the man. If you hate it, you hate it. But if you love it, gods, it will be the best thing to happen to you.”

“You sound a lot like Marge right now. No, I’m not going to go into this further. We leave in two days. We can handle it.”

“Oh, sweetie. Even I can’t take the sexual tension between you two.”

“I’m pretty sure he hates me right now.” Sansa sighed.

“I told you I talked to him, and he didn’t seem that upset. A little annoyed, yeah. But not like: ‘I hate this bitch. I’m leaving this second. I hate everyone here!’”

“He called me hateful. I’m not hateful, I’m just confused.”

“Sansa, dearie, lovely, beautiful person: you are an idiot. He is more in love with you than Troy was with Helen. Why else would he put up with our family?”

“I paid him.” Sansa looked up at her younger sister. “Or I’m going to pay him. I haven’t gotten to it yet.”

“Yeah, he’s in love with you. No one in their right mind would go without taking the money first.” Arya shifted, and took the apple from Sansa. She took a bite, and smiled down at her sister, “The way he looks at you. He knows you, but he wants to memorize how you move, how you talk. He looks at you as if he were to blink you would vanish. You look like that at him, too. I want somebody to look at me like that.”

Sansa gazed at her sister in confusion, then as if the final piece of the puzzle was placed, everything made sense. The picture was clear. She needed to see Sandor.

She shot up, and began to race through the woods once more. But she wasn’t running away. No, she was going after him. She needed to see him. She needed to tell him… _something_.

She jumped over the curb by the driveway, past the garage where Robb was drinking with Jon, and up the stairs. She hurried past the dining room where her parents were playing a card game. She took the flight of stairs up to the bedroom two at a time.

She burst through the door, completely out of breath. But the room was empty. Sandor wasn’t on the floor, nor the bed.

A note sat on the bed, next to her phone.

Her name was scrawled on a ripped and folded piece of paper. She opened it to read:

_**  
Sansa, emergency at work. Call you later. - Sandor.** _


	15. She Has That Effect On People

***Three hours earlier***

Sandor walked back through the woods with more confusion than he had ever had before. The steady crunch under his feet kept him sane, the water that soaked up into his shoes did not. The sun was shining brightly, unobstructed by clouds. The heat was causing his back to dampen with sweat, and drips were coming off his temples. He hardly noticed.

He heard her conversation repeatedly in his mind. Her words contradicted the feeling in her voice, the look in her eyes. He could never forget the look in her eyes. Sansa could never lie. Neither could he.

She was lying. He was lying. He was sick of it. He knew what he wanted. He wanted her. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to wake up tangled next to her everyday. He wanted her. But would she ever come to terms with what she wanted?

That was what he didn’t know. To him, Sansa always seemed open and vapid. Too loose and carefree with her feelings, but now that he actually knew her, she hid her feelings just as much as he did. She just had a way of making it seem like she was an open book.

The yells of her brothers ripped him from his thoughts. They raced around each other; Robb was holding a dead fish, chasing Rickon. Jon and Bran were tossing a football back and forth. Sandor looked at them with envy as he tried to pass by without being noticed.

“Heads up!” Bran’s voice cut through the air as Sandor looked up to see the football come right to his head. Sandor lifted his hands, and caught the football.

“Nice catch!” Jon held his hands up, and Sandor passed the ball to him. “We should play a game of touch. Robb, game of touch?”

“I’m up for it.” Robb called as he dropped the fish on the ground.

“I don’t think so,” Sandor started walking up the stairs.

“Come on, Sandor. Just a friendly game of football; I’ll even take Sansa on my team. She’s _terrible._ ” Jon laughed, and tossed the ball to Bran.

“I’m not playing, and I highly doubt she’ll play either.” Sandor turned again, wishing to be left alone.

“Sandor! Come here!” Arya called from the deck, where she was lounging on the swing. She had on sunglasses that made her eyes look like bugs, and her short hair was somehow wrapped in a bun on the top of her head. Her shorts revealed her heavily tattooed legs.

Thankful, for once, for her interruption, Sandor made his way up the steps. Less than an hour ago, he heard Sansa on the phone with someone, talking about him. She paced whenever she was frustrated. Her fingers had played with the ends of her hair feverishly.

“Lover boy, I asked you a question.” Arya laid herself out on the swing, her feet were above her head as she played on her phone.

Shaking his head, trying to get the image of Sansa out of his head, Sandor concentrated on Arya, “What?”

“Dude, what crawled into your ass? Are you high?” Arya’s head hung over the edge of the swing; she looked up at him with a strange expression.

“No? What did you want?” Sandor was getting annoyed, with everything.

“Where’s Sansa? I can’t find her, and last time I saw her, you two were playing some kind of demented game of tag.” Arya chuckled, and brought her attention back to phone.

“She’s still on that fucking beach; you want her go find her.” Sandor started to reach for the door.

“Wait,” Arya sat up, and patted the seat next to her on the swing. “Talk to me, hound.”

Sandor didn’t take the seat next to her, but leaned his shoulder against the house. “About what?”

“I’m not an idiot, Sandor. I can see what’s happening between you two. You both have these nasty puppy eyes for each other, and it’s making me sick. You two just need to get together, and solve that sexual tension.”

“There is no sexual tension.” Sandor stated, falsely.

“Don’t even try that with me. No, the fucking pope could feel those sexy feels in his church.”   
  


Sandor cocked his head to the side, “Sansa made it clear to me that she doesn’t feel that way; I tried getting her to tell me. To tell me something, anything. I fucking tried.”

“So, you admit it? No more games, you like her?” Arya leaned forward, her eyes locked on his.

“I never denied it.”

“Oh gods. Fuck yes! Finally, fucking finally. It took you two long enough.”

“It’s been four days.”

“It’s been four fucking years. Four years. Four. Years.” Arya tilted her face up, and smiled. “This is great.”

“Did you not hear what I just said? She doesn’t want to see me. She called me obtuse, whatever that means. I’m guessing it’s not good.” Sandor pinched at the bridge of his nose, feeling the beginning of a headache.

“Dude, Sansa is an idiot. She’s had like one boyfriend before, and it ended in a total disaster. He was a fucking prick, why do you think she doesn’t like dating? She’s not very open. She clenches up at the first sight of conflict.”

“That explains why she ran.”

A confused look blossomed on Arya’s face, “Is that why I saw you chasing after her?”

“It wasn’t like that. She was talking to a friend on the phone-”

“Margaery.” Arya needlessly supplied.

“Sure, and anyway Sansa started saying things, like I wasn’t as bad as she originally thought. But that didn’t set anything off, because I’m a fucking asshole. But at the end of the call, she told her that she wasn’t in love with me. But she was completely lying, Sansa can’t lie worth shit.”

“So she ran?”

Sandor opened his mouth to answer, but then his phone started buzzing in his pocket. “I have to take this.”

Arya waved him off, and went back to her original position on the swing, and started typing into her phone.

“Clegane,” Sandor said into the phone as he walked into the kitchen.

“It’s Bronn.”

“What do you need?”

“Something happened at site B. Pod was working up in the attic of the office building, something happened with the wiring, and you know he’s our best guy with electrical stuff, behind you. And one of the beams snapped under his weight. He’s fine, except for a broken leg and arm. But we need to sign the paperwork.” Bronn barely let out a breath through his monologue.

“What do you mean the beam snapped?” Sandor grabbed a bottle of water, and took a swig, wishing for something stronger.

“It’s an old building, the wood was weaker than expected.”

“Didn’t we do work on that building five years ago?”

“I don’t remember, it’s your job to know that shit. It can wait until you get back on Monday, but it would be better if we could get it done know. We can’t resume work until everything’s signed. Or I can get someone to fax you the forms.”

“Do that; I’ll text you the address of the post office up here. You should have everything back by seven.”

“Thanks, boss. I’m assuming you’re having a hot time with your lover?”

“Goodbye, Bronn.” Sandor hung up the phone, and breathed in deeply.

Finally to have some time by himself, to sort through this fucking mess.

Sandor went up to the bedroom, and stripped off his wet shoes and jeans. He put on his last pair of clean jeans, and threw on his jacket. He grabbed his keys, and at the last moment decide to leave a note for Sansa.

***

**_*Present*_ **

Sansa stared at the sloppily written note with an intense gaze. She sat on the floor, her back against the bed. What? He just left?”

“Mom!” Sansa called.

“What?” Cat called from down the stairs.

“Mom!”

“What?”

“Get up here, now!” Sansa never took her eyes off the paper.

She heard a huff, and then steps coming up the stairs. Cat appeared in the doorway, and raised her eyebrows expectantly.

“What is it?”

“When did Sandor leave?” Sansa pried her eyes away from the sheet in her hands.

“He left?” Cat’s eyebrows scrunched together, as if she were trying to remember something. “Oh, yeah. He was in a hurry. It wasn’t too long ago, maybe an hour or two ago.”

“Oh, gods.” Sansa hid her face in her hands, and tried not to cry.

“What happened?” Cat sat down on the floor next to her daughter. “Did you have a fight?”

“No. Maybe.” Her throat clenched on her, “Yeah. It was all my fault. He tried getting me to tell him something, and I wasn’t - I’m not ready to tell him.”

“About the wedding?” Cat gazed at her daughter, and tried wrapping her arm around her shoulders.

Sansa shook her off, “Yeah, about the wedding. I need to borrow your car. I’m going to go find find him.”

“It’s ten o’clock, Sansa. You’re not going to go find him at this time of night, he’s probably on his way home already.”

“I doubt that.” Sansa muttered as she pulled on a pair of jeans and a jacket.

“You’re not taking my car, Sansa.”

“Fine, I’ll take Robb’s.”

Sansa left the room without another glance to her mother. She ran down the stairs, and saw Robb sitting in the living room with her other siblings, playing Mario Kart.

“Robb, I’m taking your car!” She called as she grabbed the keys off the counter.

“Don’t crash it!”

She made an incoherent noise in response, and slammed the front door shut. She got into his car, and silently started on the three hour drive ahead of her.

Fifteen minutes in, Sansa turned on the main road. The local bars were thriving, even though it was a Thursday night. Sansa glanced at the cars in the parking lot, and thought she saw Sandor’s truck sitting in the mix. She ignored it until the truck became illuminated under the streetlamp, and she saw her sandals and swimsuit cover sitting on the dash.

Slamming on the brakes, Sansa turned into the parking. A car screeched its horn as it passed her. She pulled the car next to his truck.

The music from the bar pulsed through the walls. Drunk men stood in pairs outside, smoking cigarettes. Drunk women stood in clumps, laughing hysterically. Sansa wrapped her jacket tightly around herself as she peered into his truck; she placed her hand on the hood, and it was cold.

_How long has he been here? Emergency at work?_

Sansa started to make her way to the door of the bar when a pair of the drunk men started to whistle at her. Sansa kept her face forward, trying her best to ignore them.

“Come on, sweetheart. Give us a smile.” The shorter of the two slurred out as he blew smoke in her direction.

Sansa glanced at them as she reached the door. They looked at her as if she were toy, and they both wanted to play. She yanked the door open, and the noise and the smell washed over her in a pungent wave.

The bar was poorly lit, most likely to hide how dirty it was. The music was playing at a volume just a notch above acceptable. The sounds of billiards rang throughout the bar. Half the tables had their chairs set on top of them for the night. A silent signal to everyone drinking that they had to leave soon.

People sat in groups of three or five at tables along the walls. Sansa recognized many of the older patrons; older friends of the family getting a drink after a long day of work. More sat at the bar, most in pairs, except for one lone figure at the last seat farthest from the door.

He was hunched over a half empty glass. His fingers spun the glass around in circles as he stared at the woodwork of the bar. Even though he sat on a bar stool, his feet were flat against the ground. A brown leather jacket was hung over the back of the stool, and the man wore a gray button up, rolled up to his elbows.  

Sansa looked at him from the door, frozen in place. _What am I supposed to say? Hey, I know I was acting completely crazy earlier today, and you left. Leaving me a cryptic note, and so I decided I was going to drive three hours back home to find you, but then I happened to see your truck, and hey, I found you. You can’t hide from me._

Maybe that would work.

As if he could read her thoughts, he looked up, and then right at her. It was like everything stopped. Nobody moved, nobody breathed. Their eyes locked.

Then Sandor started laughing. It wasn’t little chuckling; it was full blown, grab-the-belly laughter. He knocked down the rest of his drink, and looked back to her, as if to make sure he wasn’t going crazy.

Sansa looked around in horror as people started to crane their necks to find out what was going on. With haste, Sansa walked across the sticky floor of the bar, and took the empty seat next to Sandor. He side glanced at her, and chuckled again. Snapping his fingers at the bartender, he motioned for another drink.

“One for you, Miss?” The bartender smiled at her, and raised his eyebrows. He couldn’t have been more than twenty-three.

“No, thanks.” Sansa smiled sweetly at him, and Sandor saw the guy’s heart drop. _She has that effect on people._

Sandor took the next drink immediately, drinking half of it in one gulp.

Sansa didn’t know what to say. She was at a complete loss of words. For a minute she sat there opening her mouth, then shutting it. There was so much to say, but no way to say it.

“You want to yell at me.” Sandor looked at her as he sipped from his glass.

“No I don’t.” Sansa said quickly, thankful for something to say.

“Liar, you’re such a bad liar. Gods, it’s embarrassing.” He started to laugh again, and Sansa had to fight herself from looking at his dimple. Yes, he had only one dimple, and it was adorable.

“I’m just confused, Sandor.” Sansa looked down the bar, wishing she had ordered a drink.

“Ha! Understatement of the century.” Sandor called for another drink.

“Sandor, maybe we should stop drinking? It’s getting late.” Sansa placed a hand on his shoulder. Which he yanked away, and almost fell from the stool.

“We? There is no we. You made that clear.” He made a face, and then burped. “That wasn’t nice.”

“The burp or me?” Sansa reached for a napkin and handed it to Sandor, as he drooled a little bit.

He thought for a moment, and she could tell he thought very hard, because his eyebrows were scrunched together. “Both.”

His phone started to ring, and he dug deep into his pocket, and pulled out his phone. He swiped to answer it, and started laughing.

“Bronn, best friend.”

“Oh gods. Why are you drunk?”

“I’m not drunk. I’m fucking wasted. Sansa’s sitting right next to me. Want to say hi?” Sandor’s words slurred only slightly.

“I don’t think-” Bronn’s voice faded as Sandor pulled his phone away from his ear, and handed to Sansa.

Sansa took the phone, and turned away. “Help me.”

Bronn immediately started laughing. “Nice to meet you too, sweetheart.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

“You’re the lass who has take my best friend’s heart.” Bronn laughed even more.

“No. I don’t know what you’re talking about. There is a two hundred pound man drunk, and I don’t know how to deal with him. Help me.” Sansa was half whispering, half yelping.

“Can you tell him thanks for the paperwork? It saved us a lot of trouble over here. Podrick appreciates it.” And he hung up.

Sansa stared at the phone, her mouth hanging open. _That was no help whatsoever._

Sandor brought his hand over, and closed her jaw. He started to laugh again. Sansa moved her head, and eyed him. She handed him his phone, and then pulled out her own.

She sent Arya a text, “You’re going to need to pick me and Sandor up when I call you.”

“I need a drink.” Sansa called the bartender over, and ordered two shots.

“There ya go!” Sandor slapped her on the back.

Sansa watched the bartender intently as he poured out two shots, and then a third, He winked at her and said it was on the house. Sandor shot the kid a glare.

Taking in a deep breath, Sansa knocked back all three in under a minute. She felt the warm liquid in her stomach. She suddenly remembered she had nothing to eat the whole day, but she didn’t care. She didn’t.

She leaned into Sandor as he was working on another drink, and whispered in his ear, “We need to talk.”

“About what?”

“I don’t even know. Anything. Something. Everything. Come on, let’s talk. About our feelings.” She started laughing, and asked for another shot.

“We tried. Or I tried.” Sandor burped again, “It didn’t work.”

The both of them started to giggle again.

“I know. I’m an idiot. More drink?” She smiled, and he smiled back at her.

The bartender looked at the both of them with slight confusion. What was happening? People had begun to trickle out, but those two continued to communicate in some sort of drunken language.

“Yes. More. More is good. So good. Like you. You good.” Sandor patted her head like a dog.

“I am good.” Sansa pushed him slightly, and then hiccuped. “You’re good too. A bit of an asshole- oh no.”

Sandor slammed his drink down, and his mouth formed a perfect oval as he made a noise that was almost inhuman.

“You cursed. You fucking cursed. Alert the fucking media. Sansa Stark cursed.” He looked around, searching for anyone to share in this revelation.

Sansa covered her mouth, and tried not to laugh, but failed miserably.

“Sansa fucking Stark.” Sandor put his arm around her shoulders, and kissed her on the forehead, “I have never been more proud.”

“My reputation.” Sansa cried out in fake agony.

“Excuse me, but you two need to quiet down a little bit.” The bartender slid down two more shots, and walked away.

“Yeah, gosh, Sandor. You’re so loud.” Sansa whispered.

“It was you.” Sandor whispered back, his breath hot on her cheek.

Sansa turned her head slightly, and his lips were right there. They were touching hers, not kissing, just touching. Then everything changed. Sandor pulled Sansa to her feet, and put his hands on her cheeks. She didn’t know what to do with her hands, so she left them at her sides. His nose grazed across her cheek as he leaned even closer.

Sansa knew it was alcohol, but she didn’t care. It was perfect, it was what she needed. Their lips moved together as if they had done this everyday for the past ten years, and it was perfect. His lips were wet from his drink as were Sansa’s. Sansa could taste alcohol on his lips, but it wasn’t nearly as intoxicating as the kiss itself.

He took his lips off of her hers, and then trailed them down her neck, and Sansa smiled. Perfection.  

“Get a room!” Someone yelled from the other side of the bar, and Sansa started to giggle helplessly.

Sansa sat back down, and started to rub her foot along Sandor’s leg. He eyed her suspiciously, he opened his mouth to say something. But he didn’t, the first notes of a new song stopped him.

__

_“I’m bringing sexyback, them other boys don’t know how to act…”_

Sansa watched Sandor as something happened in his brain. Silently, Sandor went to the middle of the bar, and started to move in time to the music. It wasn’t pretty, but it was funny. Sansa couldn’t keep her laughs to herself as she watched Sandor move his hips in a circular motion.

He was somehow able to keep the same time as the song. His body moved in a fluid like motion. His torso did sort of rolling thing, and Sansa couldn’t take her eyes off of him. Sandor then, locked eyes with her, winked, and came over. He continued to move his hips, and when he raised his arms above his head, Sansa could see the V of his muscles.

So, in the middle of the bar, Sansa and Sandor were dancing up against each other. A few hoots of laughter came from the others in the bar. Their hips moved in unison, and his mouth was on her neck. He stripped off his shirt, and Sansa felt his muscles, trailing her fingers from his collarbone down to his hip.

“Sir, you need to wear your shirt.”

“I don’t care. Little bird is loving this.” Sandor laughed, started to kiss Sansa again as the song ended.

“Sir, if you don’t put on a shirt, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

Sansa ignored him, pulling Sandor closer. She bit his lip slightly, and chuckled as she watched his eyes.

“That’s fine, we’ll be leaving.” Sandor’s eyes didn’t leave Sansa’s.

 


	16. Boys Are Weird.

Sansa’s body jolted awake as she fell off the bed onto the floor. Her head popped up like a meerkat, and she immediately regretted it. A pounding deepened near her temples, and she could have sworn she heard her blood pumping through her veins.

She grasped her head in both of her hands, and pulled a t-shirt off her head. _What?_ She held it up, and squinted at it. It was Sandor’s. She looked down, and assured herself that she was still dressed, well she wasn’t naked. But why was she wearing- oh gods.

Deliberately, Sansa peered over the top of the bed to see a sleeping Sandor. The blankets covered his body up his chin, so she couldn’t tell if he was wearing, well, anything. But he did have a bra, her bra, on his head.

Falling back to the ground, Sansa looked around. She couldn’t remember anything of the night previous. Except for drinking, a lot of drinking. What happened? Oh gods, they didn’t? Oh no.

She tried unravelling herself from a blanket she didn’t recognize. As she ripped it off, she noticed she was wearing his clothes. His shorts, and his button up from last night.

_Oh gods._

Her head protested fervently as she stood up. His shorts fell from her hips, and she didn’t have the motivation to pick them up, so she stepped out of them. She was left in his shirt and underwear. Sansa looked down to notice she wasn’t wearing a bra. She glanced back at Sandor, and realized that was the bra she was wearing yesterday.

Sandor shifted in the bed, turning from his back to his stomach, and Sansa saw that he wasn’t wearing a shirt. But he was wearing her bikini top. _What?_

__

_What happened last night?_

__

Sansa went into her bag, and grabbed the magical bottle of drugs. She emptied two into her hand, and left the bottle on the nightstand next to Sandor. She dry swallowed them.

Sandor shifted once more, but this time he woke up. He sat straight up, and Sansa froze where she was, mid motion of buttoning the first button of his shirt.

His eyes scanned the room; they were wide and looked wild. His hair was mostly hidden in the bra that was still on his head, and part of it was in a ponytail off to the side. There was a mustache drawn on his upper lip. On his torso, Sansa’s bikini top stretched across his torso, and it didn’t hide his nipples.

He looked at her, and then down at himself.  “What the bloody fuck?”  He then passed back out on the bed.

_Unbelievable_ , Sansa thought as she shook her head.

Flapping the sleeves of his shirt around her hands, Sansa tried to remember last night. She shut her eyes, and tried to invoke images of last night, but she couldn’t. She only remembered alcohol. And dancing. And lips?

A blur of colors darted past the bedroom door. As quickly as she could, Sansa went to the doorway to see Arya close the door to her bedroom.

“Arya!” Sansa yelled, but it was still a whisper. “Arya!”

A muffled crash sounded behind the door, then a high pitched squeal. Arya cracked the door open, and peered through.

“What’s up, love bug?” Arya’s makeup was smudged, and her voice was hoarse.

“What do you know?” Sansa squinted at her sister, trying not to throw up the contents of her stomach.

“Question is: What do _you_ know?” Arya laughed.

“This isn’t funny. I don’t remember anything.” Sansa’s voice raised in pitch. She was growing more and more fearful of what happened the night before.

“Are you serious?” Arya’s eyes widened, but then she started to giggle uncontrollably.

“What?”

“Not really a surprise; you were fucking wasted.”

“Arya, this isn’t funny. Why am I wearing Sandor’s clothes, and why is wearing my bikini?” Sansa was getting tired, and her head was in so much pain.

Arya’s face went flat. “He’s wearing your bikini?”

“...Yes.” Sansa was looking towards Arya for help, but if she didn’t know this what else didn’t she know?

“I need to see.” Arya burst through her own doorway, pushed Sansa out of the way, and hung onto the doorframe of Sansa’s door.

“Oh. My. Gods. He is wearing your swimsuit.” Arya didn’t even bother to whisper, the shock was too great for her. “I need to document this.”

Arya pulled out her phone, and started snapping photos. She was laughing so hard she started snorting. Sandor stirred as Sansa pushed Ayra out of the door.

Sansa stood taller as she crowded her sister against the door, “What happened last night?”

“You got drunk. I got a call from Old Nan saying that little dear Sansa was rubbing on some man she’s never seen before. Of course I had to get there as fast as I could. Oh boy, when I got there,” She shook her head a bit, “Old Nan was right. You two were attached at the lip. The manager was trying to kick the pair of you out, but you weren’t having that. If I hadn’t been there, I’m pretty sure you would have stripped right there. You, not Sandor. He was already half naked.”

Sansa tried to process the information. She stared at her sister as Arya spoke, grasping each word as if she were at church. As she tried to formulate an intelligible sentence, she said the first thing that came to her mind.  “So… We kissed?”

“Connected at the mouth, Sansa. I’m pretty sure you were eating him. How you two were breathing is a mystery.”

“I don’t remember it.” Sansa looked down, disappointed. _How could I not remember it?_

__

“Sansa, you were so drunk. When I was pushing you two into my car you were yelling something about Sandor being a unicorn. And a butterfly. When I actually got you into my car, you started crying about your shoe because it fell off.”

“I didn’t cry about a shoe.” Sansa tried to sound confident, but that sounded like something she would do.

Arya snorted, “Please. Don’t even try it.”

Sansa let out a breath, “Okay… but what happened after?”

“After? Are you asking me if you fucked Sandor Clegane? No, you didn’t. You can relax.”

“How do you know?” Sansa bit her lip as she looked at her sister.

“Why? Did you want to have sex with him? Is that it?”

“What? No! That’s disgusting, Arya.” Sansa snorted.

Arya gave a short laugh, “Tell that to yourself last night. No, you two had the door open all night long, and there was nothing really going on besides a lot of laughter.”

“People laugh during sex.” Sansa chimed in, then immediately regretted it.

“Oh my gods! You totally wished you slept with him! You filthy dog!” Arya had such a stupid grin on her face, Sansa wanted to smack it right off of her.

“Arya, shut up! I did not say that, and I swear if you wake up Sandor I will-”

“You’ll what?” A deep voice rumbled behind her.

Sansa’s entire body jumped, then contracted. Her eyes locked with Arya’s, but Arya did nothing but laugh. Sansa silently cried for help as Arya sauntered back into her room.

Taking as long as possible, Sansa turned towards Sandor. She didn’t know how much he remembered, but she knew he could handle his liquor a lot better than she could. So the chances of him remembering were a lot higher with him.

“Morning,” Sansa put on a smile that did absolutely nothing to hide her embarrassment. She looked at him from head to toe. He removed the swimsuit, and exchanged it for a sweatshirt and sweatpants. _No one should look that good in sweats._

__

“What was that about?” Sandor leaned against the doorframe, feigning nonchalance.

“Oh, we were just talking about last night. What a riled wide right? Wait, wild ride, right?” Sansa almost bit her tongue off.

“Yeah, it was crazy. Especially with that squirrel that attacked Arya,” He let out a long breath, and shook his head. “That was a close one.”

Sansa nodded her head too enthusiastically, “Yeah. Crazy!”

“There was no squirrel.”

“Yeah there was. Maybe you had too much to drink.” Sansa went to do a hair flip, to make it seem like she knew what she was talking about, but then hit her head on the bathroom door. “Ow!”

She held the back of her head, and she blinked away tears, “Oh, pester the bloody puppet and Peter!”   
  


Sandor stepped forward to see if there was anything he could do, “Pester the bloody puppet and Peter?”

“Not now. I’m dying.” Sansa slid down to the floor, holding her head.

“Could you be any more dramatic, little bird?” Sandor crouched down, and looked at her head. “You know this doesn’t mean the end of our conversation?”

“Sansa! Finally you’re awake. Sandor, good you’re up too. Company is going to be here soon.” Cat stood halfway up the stairs. “Sansa, what are you doing on the floor?”

“She slipped,” Sandor smiled at Cat, “I’m taking care of it.”

“Taking care of it? Why you make her sound as if she’s puddle on the ground.” Cat’s laugh sounded forced. “Both of you clean yourselves up. Company is going to be here soon. Let’s go!”

“What guests?” Sansa suddenly remembered that she was only in Sandor’s shirt. She wrapped her arms tightly around her chest. A motion that was not unnoticed by Sandor.

He snorted out a laugh, then quickly covered it by a cough.

“The Barbeque! Sansa I must have told you about a million times already.”

“Once. You told me once.” Sansa clenched her teeth, then turned away from her mother.

“One hour, Sansa.” Cat went back down the stairs, already shouting to Bran and Rickon. “No more TV for the rest of the day!”

Sandor offered Sansa a hand, and she took it, but only because there was no way to stand up without revealing her whole backside.

“I’m going to assume you’re going to shower first.” Sandor guessed as he turned back into the bedroom.

“Why would you assume that?” Sansa challenged, not quite ready to stop the back-and-forth.

Sandor stepped close to Sansa, and their mouths were almost touching, “Because you reek of vomit and alcohol.”

Sansa gasped, and covered her mouth. She darted into the bathroom as Sandor burst out a laugh.

Sandor heard the water start, and the drumming against the tiled floor of the bathtub, then Sansa’s squeals as the water was too hot.

Once more, he turned to go back into the bedroom. His head was aching like a mother and all he wanted was more sleep.

“Clegane.” Arya’s voice sounded from her doorway.

“What?” Sandor turned his head, startled by her voice.

“What do you remember?” She was hardly whispering, but she didn’t have the normal vindictive look as she usually did.

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t play with me. I know you both were smashed.”

“This is for me and Sansa, Stark.” Sandor started to move again but was stopped by Arya’s hand on his arm.

“I’d like you to think over that as I play you this video.” She pulled out her phone, and clicked a couple of times.

The video was dark, but Sandor could definitely make out two figures in the middle of the frame. They were dancing against each other, and then they were making out. Not kissing, making out. _Gods, were they even breathing?_

The video shifted as the camera moved closer, then Arya’s voice sounded above the song, Sexyback, “Hey, guys, I think it’s time to go home now.”

To which Sandor had replied, “I need to sing a song for my little bird. I’m bringing sexy back, yeah!”

Sandor watched in horror as he shouted above the music, and tied his shirt around Sansa.

“You go, Unicorn. You’re perfect.” Sansa slurred back, her voice heavy with alcohol.

“Turn it off.” Sandor pushed the phone away, and looked to Arya.

She smirked back at him, “You barely remember anything.”

“I don’t remember anything after the song, no.”

“But you remember dancing?”

“I remember dancing with Sansa.”

“And…?” Arya prompted him, nudging him in the shoulder.

Sandor looked towards the ceiling, “And kissing her.”

Arya didn’t saying at first, just pumped her fists into the air, “Yes, motherfucker, I knew it! I knew it.”

“Shut up.” Sandor rolled his eyes as he slammed the door shut.

***

Hours later Sansa walked around in an uncomfortable dress, and even more uncomfortable heels, mingling with old family friends who might as well been strangers. She laughed, smiled, joked even though her was still pulsating. The older friends continued to ask about Sandor; how they met, how he proposed, when they were getting married, when would they have kids.

Sandor followed her as she maneuvered her way through the crowds. He didn’t say much as he gripped onto his coffee. Sansa’s arm was looped in his, trying to portray the perfect couple. He tried to answer questions with sincerity and friendliness. He did, but he could only replay the previous night in his mind. He would be looking at Sansa as she answered a question, and he could see her lips moving, and then he would remember how they felt on his. Then he would remember how she felt against him.

__

_What the bloody fuck is happening to me?_

“What was that?” Sansa dipped her head, bringing her lips closer to his neck.

“What?” He focused his eyes back on her, intent on not looking at her lips. He made the mistake of looking at her eyes. They were darker than usual; the blue seemed deeper, almost like the ocean at dusk. He wouldn’t being lost in that sea.

“You mumbled something,” Her hand went to her neck, absent-mindedly playing with a necklace that wasn’t there. He’d seen her do it a hundred times when they talked in the hallway outside their apartments.

“Oh, nothing. It’s nothing.” He shook his head, and saw an old woman start pushing her way through the people to get them, “Next one.”

Sansa straightened her back, and turned her mouth to be close to his ear as she whispered, “That’s Nan, she watched over Arya and I as we grew up.”

“The same Old Nan as last night?” Sandor grew rigid.

Sansa mimcked Sandor, and tried to smile, “I hope not.”

The woman finally made to the pair, and she smiled a wicked smile. “Well, you two look as cozy as bunnies.”

“Oh, we are,” Sansa nodded. “How are you?”

“I’m doing well. Always so sweet and kind, you were. Nice to know it hasn’t gone away. Do you want to hear a funny story, kiddos?”

“Of course,” Sansa smiled, and gestured to some vacant seats off to the side. She practically pushed Sandor onto the bench.

The woman sitauted herself on the bench, and with a loud sigh began her tale, “Last night, I was with my grandchildren. They wanted to do something special for me, so they took me out to Lewin’s. You know Lewin’s?”

Sandor looked confused, “No?”

Sansa smacked him lightly in the chest, “Yes, we do. We were there _last night_.”

“Oh,” Sandor’s eyes widened, and then looked towards the old lady with suspicion.

“Oh is right. I was about to make my over to say hi, as is polite. But then I saw my little Sansa dear drinking and drinking and drinking and drinking and drinking. Not something I’d expect from my girl, and then the dancing-”

“Okay! We’re going to stop that.” Sansa slammed her hands on the table a bit louder than intended, and nearly everybody looked at the trio.

“Oh, calm yourself. It’s not like you’re a child anymore Sansa. You were having some fun, with your fiance! I wanted to let you know that you two dance wonderfully.” The woman smiled again, and winked at Sandor, “Don’t let get wound up so tight. And dance with her often.”

Sandor had a feeling she wasn’t talking about a waltz.

“I need a drink.” Sansa whispered as they walked away.

“That’s not a good idea.” Sandor looked down at their arms; they were still intertwined.

“I don’t care. My family drives me to drink.”

“Yes, let’s have a repeat black out of last night.” Sandor laughed, but quickly bit his tongue when he saw her face.

“We’re not even close to being done with that conversation.” They inched their way to the table full of food. When Sansa saw the tray of lemon cakes, her eyes lit up. Finally, something good.

With her free hand, Sansa grabbed a lemon cake, and practically inhaled it, “This is better than sex.”

“Then you’re not doing it right.” Sandor said automatically. He bit his tongue, but then Sansa started to chuckle.

“You’re disgusting.” Sansa said under her breath.

Sandor opened his mouth, but then Rickon ran up to him, and started to pull on his free arm, “Sandor! Can you come throw me in the lake? Dad says I’m too big, but you’re bigger! Come on!”

“What?”

“Throw me in the lake!” Rickon was pulling with all of his strength, and Sandor hadn’t budged an inch. Three boys followed him, and began to help with the pulling.

Sandor turned his head to Sansa, “Is this normal?”

“Yeah,” She nodded, “Boys are weird.”

Ten minutes later, Sandor was standing out on the dock with Bran, Rickon, and a cluster of small children waiting to be thrown off the dock. Sandor stripped off his shirt, and traded his best jeans for his athletic shorts. He wasn’t wet, yet.

Sansa stood on the deck, above the rest of the party, watching the lake. She stripped off her wedges, and stood barefoot against the railing. She chuckled to herself as a small huddle of teenage girls whispered to each other, while pointing at Sandor. She remembered being like that with every shirtless guy with muscles.

_I’m still like that, but we’re going to ignore that._

She noticed his tattoos on his back, another on his side, and a couple more on his arms. She didn’t know what they were of, never bothered asking, or looking. But even from this distance, she could make out the outline of a wolf on his back. She always liked wolves.

When Sandor picked up the first kid, his muscles contracted, tightened with effort. She then noticed how he laughed as the other kids cheered him on. _Maybe he doesn’t hate children all that much._

He continued to throw them into the water, and they continued to cheer. Then, almost at once, all the kids ran together, and pushed Sandor into the water. Their laughter could be heard from house. Sansa let out a stream of giggles as they cheered out in victory.

A couple of moments later, Sandor grabbed onto the side of the dock, and pulled himself up. Sansa’s breath hitched as she watched him. His skin shimmered against the sun light. His chest seemed further defined as the water clung to the hair that was spread across. His arms were tense as he hauled himself out of the water.

“Sansa,” Robb snapped his fingers in front of her face, “Earth to Sansa.”

She stepped away from the railing, pulling her head away from her brother’s hand, “What?”

“I’ve been trying to get your attention for like a minute.”

“Oh, sorry. I was-”

“I know what you were doing. I don’t know what is with the two of you, but the second one of puts on a swinsuit the other turns into a zombie.” Robb let out a laugh. “Seriously though, keep it in your pants. No one wants to see your lady boner.”

“I don’t have a lady boner, you sicko.” Sansa sounded offended, but she knew the truth.

“Okay, whatever you tell yourself.” He leaned his forearms against the railing, chuckling as Sandor dumped more kids in. “He’s good. I like him.”

Sansa leaned her hip on the railing, and looked over at Sandor, “Me too.”

“I know mom has been real hardass this whole week, but I think you guys found something really good here. Something real.”

“Yeah, that’s what they keep telling me.” Sansa bit her lip.

“What is it?” Robb raised his eyebrow.

Taking in a breath, Sansa tried to put what she was feeling into words. She hated lying. She didn’t want to tell the truth either. This whatever it was with Sandor wasn’t going to last. It was something that happened while they were pretending to be together. It was idiotic, and it wouldn’t last.

“I don’t think we’ll make it.” was all she said.

“Why not?”

“Well, this week, it’s a bubble. A big bubble. I love the bubble. The bubble is my favorite. But all bubbles pop. And when it pops, it’s going to be terrible. I don’t want it to be, but it is. He’s great, a bit of a jerk, but great. I like him, a lot. But I don’t know him.”

“You’re engaged to him.” Robb sounded his words out slowly.

Sansa nodded her head with too much enthusiasm. “Yeah, totally. There is a ring on this finger,” She started to play with it, “But it’s not mine.”

“Is he cheating on you?” Robb shot up, ready to go down to the man that was double his size.

“No! Robb, calm down.” Sansa pulled Robb back, “Gods, what is it with boys?”

“What are you talking about, Sansa?”

“Nevermind, I’m being silly.” Sansa smiled at her brother; she knocked her shoulder into his. “Love you.”

He gathered her into a big hug, “Love you too.”

He kissed the top of her head.


	17. Maybe This Week Played With Our Minds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so so so sorry about not updating, but i have been so busy! went up to North Dakota for 4 days, saw some old friends, working my butt off at the bookstore, and having some nice dates with a perfect fella.  
> i know most you don't care, but just thought I should let you know!

The sun was sinking into the trees on the other side of the lake, creating a cascade of pinks and purples in the sky. The wind blew carelessly around the party; it whispered among the trees and across the lake.  A bonfire crackled near the edge of the lake; Bran and Rickon were roasting marshmallows while Cat conversed with some old friends. 

 

Most people had left by this time, but a few friends who were closer with the family stayed. They were laughing and reminiscing about the past. Robb and Jon seemed to be competing over a girl; trying to impress her with their wit and strength. But neither seemed to be working. 

 

Sansa sat on the swing on the deck, above the party. Her legs were curled under her body, and she had laid a thick quilt over her lap to fight off the chill and the bugs. She watched her family with much delight; she was going to miss them when she went back home. Even if the majority of them were jerks. 

 

She looked out over the lake, and saw Sandor and Arya sitting on bench near the dock. They both had their heads ducked low, and seemed to be having a serious discussion. She craned her head to see if she could read their lips, but then remembered she couldn’t read lips. 

 

She looked up at the sound of footsteps, and saw her father approaching. She smiled up at him, and patted the empty seat next to her.

 

“So, you two leave tomorrow?” Ned sat down next to his daughter on the swing, offering her a glass of water.

 

“I think so,” Sansa took the glass, and smiled her thanks. “It’s a day earlier than Mom wanted, but I keep getting calls from work. Myranda is freaking out about the new project, and I can’t handle anymore of her voicemails.” 

 

“What’s going on with the new project?” He cracked open the beer he was holding, and glanced over at her.

 

“Well, I put together a contest type thing for the interns. They had to design the new look, and now all of them think that if they badger their way first, they’ll win. I told them, all of them, that I wasn’t going to be in the office, but does that stop them? Nope.” Sansa sighed in deeply.

 

Sansa saw Sandor stand up, and walk away from Arya. Arya stayed where she was, but did call something to him. Sansa couldn’t hear it. 

 

“What’s the prize?” 

 

“What?” Sansa looked over at her dad.

 

“You said it was a contest, what’s the prize?” He sipped from his beer. 

 

“They get a position with the company.” Sansa said carefully. She was starting to get suspicious; no one in her family ever really asked her about her job. 

 

“That’s smart. Really smart, but happens to the ones that don’t win?” 

 

“They finish out their internship, and we will have two more openings. There are five interns, so two will have to go. I don’t really deal with that though.” Sansa leaned back as she spoke. 

 

“And you like it? Being the boss?” 

 

“Who wouldn’t?” 

 

“That’s true. Sansa, I know your mother and I don’t say it as much as we should, but we are so proud of you. You really did well for yourself. And I know your mother is always on your case, but if you aren’t ready to get married, don’t. You have time, we have time. Your mother just wants grandchildren.” 

 

Sansa sat forward, “But I’m not here to give you grandchildren. Why haven’t you ever badgered Robb about being married? Or Jon? That’s crap and you know it, Dad. I’m not just some baby factory for you. And the fact -” 

 

“Sansa, I know. I know. I know you are strength, bravery, grace, beauty, and so much more. There so much for you in the world, and you are going to experience it. Ignore your mother as she keeps telling you that the clock is ticking, ignore her. Because you are so much more, Sansa. I’ve seen you belittled before, don’t let that happen again.” 

 

“I have a feeling you aren’t talking just about Mom anymore.” 

 

“I like Sandor, I do. But I worry, obviously, you’re my daughter. Arya causes me a whole lot more worry, but it still worries me nonetheless. You two don’t seem quite comfortable with each other yet. But he is so desperately in love with you, Sansa. I don’t think you see it,” Ned looked over his daughter, and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “It’ll work out the way it will. Don’t stress it so much.” 

 

“Who says I stress?” Sansa saw Sandor wind his way through the people, only to be stopped some older gentleman that Sansa didn’t recognize. 

 

“What are you staring at?” Ned followed her eyeline, and saw her gaze rested on Sandor. “Oh, I see.” 

 

Sansa shook her head, as if to wake up. “See what? I’m not staring at anything.” 

 

“Whatever you need to tell yourself,” Ned chuckled a bit. 

 

“You mean the truth? Yeah, I can tell myself the truth.” Sansa’s voice raised in pitch. 

 

“You two have some unfinished business, don’t you? Cat told me about your fight. About the wedding, she didn’t said what about the wedding, though.” 

 

“Oh, yeah. That was pretty bad. But I think we worked it out, mostly.” Sansa gulped. 

 

“Getting drunk does not count.” 

 

“What? What are you talking about?” Sansa practically squeaked out.

 

“You weren’t exactly quiet when you three got back home at three in the morning. I believe you started singing  Man, I feel like a woman . But that only lasted ten minutes.” 

 

“I could have easily done that sober.” Sansa tried to sound confident, but instead she sounded as if she wanted to crawl into a hole and shrivel up. The latter was truth. 

 

Ned burst out laughing, “Oh, sweetie, you can’t lie to save your life.” 

 

He wrapped his arms around Sansa, and hugged her tight. 

 

You’d be surprised, old man.

 

Footsteps creaked on the wooden steps. Both Sansa and Ned turned to see Sandor standing on the final step, holding two drinks. 

 

“I guess I’ll let you two kids have some time.” Ned kissed Sansa on the forehead, and then stood, walked towards the steps. He slapped Sandor on the back before descending the steps.

 

“I brought you some iced tea, but I see you already have…” He pointed the half empty glass in her hand. 

 

“No, I’d love some tea.” Sansa scooted over on the swing. She set the glass of water on the table beside the swing. 

 

Sandor awkwardly sat down next to Sansa. She was bundled under a heavy quilt, while he was simply in jeans and a t-shirt. He changed just over an hour ago, but he didn’t see the need to be buried under a blanket. 

 

Together, they didn’t say anything. They stared over the lake. The sun was completely hidden by now, and the sky was slowly turning indigo. They saw people making their way to their cars. The wind was blowing more feverishly now, bringing in colder air from the lake. 

 

They both went to break the silence at the same time. 

 

“What were you talking about with Arya?”

 

“We should finish our conversation.” 

 

“Sorry,” Sansa mumbled as she blushed. “I didn’t mean to be rude.” 

 

“No, it’s fine.” Sandor gazed at her face while she refused to look his way. He looked over her soft cheeks, pursed lips, and the light dusting of freckles. She bit her lip as she watched the lake. Her eyes darted from one end to the other. What would he give to know what she was thinking?

 

“Sansa,” He whispered gently, “What do you think?” 

 

“About what?” Her voice sounded distant. 

 

“Sansa, look at me.” He wanted to put a hand on her cheek. But he couldn’t; he knew that. 

 

She slowly turned her head, and looked up at Sandor. He looked down at her, and he still had no idea what to make of her. 

 

“Maybe last night was a mistake,” He whispered. “We both were stupidly drunk. And our heads weren’t on right.” 

 

Sansa’s face didn’t change as he spoke. Finally, she nodded her head slightly, “Maybe. Maybe this week played with our minds.” 

 

Sandor was the one turn his head away. “Do you really not remember anything?” 

 

“Nothing concrete. I don’t know. I just…” Sansa breathed in, “I need to… sleep. I’m beat.” 

 

She stood, and as she started heading down the steps, she turned. “We’re leaving tomorrow at 7 sharp.” 

 

“Okay.” 

 

He watched her disappear down the steps.

 

***

 

Sansa curled herself into a ball on the corner of the bed, and buried herself under the covers. She felt so cold. 

 

Her phone started buzzing on the nightstand. With a blind hand, Sansa started slapping around. When she finally felt it, she answered without looking at who it was. 

 

“Hello,” her voice was thick. 

 

“Sansa, it’s Marge.” Margaery’s voice sang out. 

 

“What do you want?” 

 

“I was just calling to see how it was going with Mr. Not-So-Terrible. How’s it going?” 

 

“It’s not. It’s not at all.” Sansa blew a piece of hair out of her face. 

 

“What happened?” 

 

“We got drunk, made out, and I don’t remember any of it. Apparently, I sing when I’m drunk.” 

 

“You made out? Oh gods, was it fantastic?” Margaery practically squealed with delight. 

 

“I don’t remember.” 

 

“Like hell you don’t, Sansa Stark.” 

 

“What is that even supposed to mean?” 

 

“You kiss the guy you’ve been pretty smitten with for about a year now, and you don’t remember?” 

 

“The only things I remember are some sort of dancing, drinking, drinking, and I don’t know. I felt good last night.” 

 

“So you did like it?” 

  
“It doesn’t matter. That’s not what we’re talking about.” 

 

“Oh, yes it is. It felt good, and you liked it. Did you do the do?” 

 

“Do the do? Are you five?” 

 

“Maybe, but I need to know.” 

 

“No. We aren’t. He made it clear that it was a mistake.” 

 

“What? Impossible; he’s an idiot to pass up the chance to do the do with you.” 

 

“Could you please stop saying that?” Sansa sighed.  Why do I put up with this?

 

“Okay, Miss Grouchy, do you need a nap?” 

 

“I’m already in bed, buried under a thousand blankets. The only thing missing is my onesie.” Sansa pouted. 

 

“You still have that thing? That’s actually impressive, but disgusting at the same time.” 

 

“I’m hanging up now. Too busy trying to sleep off my life to chat.” 

 

“You are not just going to wallow in self pity!” Marge would have continued in her speech, but Sansa shut off her phone, and turned back into the pillows. 

  
She was asleep in minutes. 


	18. You May Need The Towel

Sansa groaned as she stretched out her back and legs. The blanket was tangled around her hips and torso. The sun had not yet risen, but the birds were starting their morning song. She ducked her head under a pillow, trying to block out their music as much as she could. It was no use, their upbeat melody pushed its way into her mind, and she was awake. 

 

She sat up, and her hair fell over her face. She could only imagine what it looked like. Her tongue was thick and dry, and her eyes refused to open all the way. She felt like death. 

 

A deep sigh sounded from the foot of the bed. Sansa crawled over, and  peered over the edge to see Sandor sleeping uncomfortably on the hardwood floor. He was on his back with no blanket or pillow underneath him. He had his arm thrown over his face, and one of his legs was bent at the knee. He was snoring loudly, but somehow it hadn’t woken Sansa. 

 

Slowly, trying not to make any noise, Sansa scooted off the edge of the bed, with the blanket still wrapped around her waist. She walked towards the door, but stopped once she reached the doorway. Dropping the blanket, she tiptoed over to Sandor. She crouched down, and tapped Sandor on the shoulder. 

 

Sandor responded with a snore. 

 

“Sandor,” Sansa whispered softly, “Sandor, get into the bed.” 

 

He shifted slightly, and lifted his arm up. “Hmm?” 

 

“Get into the bed,” Sansa pushed his arm gently. 

 

“No,” His voice was groggy, “Sansa’s sleeping.” 

 

“No, I’m awake.” Sansa prodded his arm once more. 

 

“Hmm?” He opened his eyes, “What’re you doing awake?” 

 

“I don’t know, but get into bed. You’re on the floor.” Sansa helped him up, and he staggered the few steps to the bed, and crashed onto it. 

 

“You’re so soft, little bird.” He mumbled into the pillow. 

 

“You’re not touching me, Sandor.” Sansa laughed a bit, but then bit her tongue. 

 

Sansa grabbed her phone off the nightstand, and went into the hallway. The sounds of Sandor’s snoring followed her down the stairs. 

 

Catelyn was whisking away in a bowl, and looked up at the sounds of steps. Her face lit up when she saw her oldest daughter.

 

“Sansa, good morning!” 

 

Still not fully awake, Sansa scowled slightly, “Morning.” 

 

“I thought I would surprise you with some lemon pancakes. I didn’t know you were going to be up so early though!” Cat laughed as she set down the down the bowl and reached for her coffee mug. 

 

“I crashed pretty early last night, and I can’t fall back asleep.” She glanced down at her phone, and saw that it was barely five in the morning. “Gods, Mom, what are you doing awake?” 

 

Cat let out a laugh, “I’m always awake by this time. Running a household is no easy job.” 

 

Sansa sat on a stool by the island, and reached for her mother’s cup of coffee, “I can imagine.” 

 

“Do you want to lick the spoon?” Cat handed off the bowl, and began to crack eggs into a frying pan. The eggs immediately started to sizzle and pop against the heated iron. 

 

“Of course,” Sansa licked at the spoon the same as she did as a child. The tartness of the lemon balanced out with the sweetness of the sugar. 

 

“So, you leave today?” 

 

“Ah, yeah. I need to get back to work. I know you wanted us to stay longer, but I can’t keep up with work as it is.” 

 

“You don’t have to lie to me, Sansa.” Cat said to her without turning away from the stove.

 

“I’m not lying?” Sansa scrunched her eyebrows together.

 

“Whatever you say, dear. Grab me some plates, will you? Your father will be down here in fifteen minutes, and he’s always grumbling in the morning.” 

 

As if he heard his name, Ned clammered down the stairs. His hair was pushed in odd directions, some sticking upwards, other parts patted down. His face looked older; half of it had lines from where his half laid against the pillow. 

 

“Morning, sunshine.” Cat kissed her husband on the cheek. 

 

A series of undecipherable grunts came from Ned as he went for the coffee pot. 

 

“So, Sansa, did you and Sandor get your fight sorted out?” Catelyn flipped a pancake over with ease, and started fry some eggs. 

 

“Um, kind of, sort of. Not really. No.” 

 

“Oh…” Cat looked over her shoulder, and gave her daughter an encouraging smile. “It’ll sort itself out.” 

 

“I don’t think this will,” Sansa licked the last bit of batter off the spoon. 

 

“Then talk about it.” Ned grumbled into his coffee. 

 

“But I don’t want to talk about it.” 

 

“Sansa, you two are getting married, you’re going to have to talk about it.” 

 

“I don’t think we are…” Sansa looked away when she said, but she could still see her mother’s face. 

 

“Excuse me?” Cat practically sputtered. 

 

“I just mean, that um, we are, uh…” Sansa looked up towards the ceiling, hoping the gods would help her someway. They didn’t. 

 

“You’re cancelling the wedding because of one fight?” Cat turned to her husband for support, but he didn’t have enough caffeine in his bloodstream to deal with this mess. 

 

“We’re not cancelling it, more of like, we’re not planning it.” Sansa smiled a bit.  _ Why am I lying so much? Just tell her the truth. There is no wedding, but you like Sandor. But you don’t love him. Maybe, I don’t know. Everything is so confusing. _

 

“Oh, that’s better than cancelling it, I suppose.” Cat bit her lip, and went back to pancakes. 

 

“Yeah, sure.” Sansa’s entire face felt hot, and she felt the stab of guilt in her chest. She looked up to see her father studying her face with a peculiar look on his face. 

 

“Good morning, family!” Arya skipped down the stairs into the kitchen, and stole her father’s cup of coffee. 

 

“Morning.” Sansa mumbled. 

 

“Ooh, everyone looks so cheery. Are you sad that Sansa’s leaving today?” 

 

“Of course,” Cat tossed over her shoulder, “Breakfast is almost ready, Arya go wake up your brothers.” 

 

“Gotcha, boss.” Arya smiled with villainous delight.

 

“Let Sandor sleep,” Sansa called to Arya as she skipped out of the room.

 

“Nope.” And she sprinted up the stairs. 

 

Sansa took a deep breath, prepared to try to stop her, but just didn’t have the motivation.

 

It was silent for a couple of moments, and then a large “Hi-ya!” came from Sansa’s bedroom, and then a loud groan, and a “what bloody fuck?”. 

 

“Time for breakfast!” Arya’s voice sang out. 

 

More curses from Sandor. 

 

“Come on Sandor, don’t make me dump water on your head.” 

 

A muffled response, and then laughter. 

 

A few stomps, and then they heard the water start running. 

 

“Oh, no.” Sansa whispered. 

 

“I hope you don’t mind a soggy fiance.” Ned laughed. 

 

Sans opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted by a stream of curses directed at her younger sister. 

 

Arya sprinted down the stairs, and whipped around the island, and used Ned as a human shield. She began to laugh uncontrollably when she heard stomps from the bedroom. 

 

Robb and Jon emerged from their bedrooms from down the hall, their body language mimicking one another. Their arms crossed, and their feet shuffled against the hardwood. One would mistake them for twins if they didn’t know them. 

 

“What is going on?” Robb asked, his voice gravelly. 

 

“Arya is terrorizing Sandor.” was all Sansa said.

 

“Not us, so that’s good.” Jon chimed in, and went for the coffee. 

 

Bran and Rickon filed in as well, they were wrapped in their blankets, and they refused to fully open their eyes. 

 

“Who did Arya get this time?” Bran asked. 

 

“Sandor.” Robb and Jon answered at the same time. 

 

“I can’t believe you did that.” Sansa muttered. 

 

Arya was still behind Ned, but her laughter had died away. 

 

“Why hasn’t he come down yet?” 

 

“Maybe because you upset him.” Sansa shot back at her sister.

 

“Well, go check on him.” 

 

“No.”

 

“Yes.” 

 

“You do it; you’re the one that dumped a bowl of water on him.” 

 

“You’re his fiance.” 

 

Sansa opened her mouth, but nothing came out.  _ I swear, Arya Stark, I swear…  _

 

Sansa stood up while glaring at her sister, and made her way upstairs. 

 

She walked steadily up the stairs, but as she got closer to the room, she went onto her tiptoes, and slowed almost to the crawl. 

 

She heard Sandor cursing quietly to himself, and some rummaging around. Sansa brought her hand, and knocked on the open door. 

 

“Morning,” She tried to smile, but it felt too forced. 

 

He turned around, and stared at her. 

 

Sansa bit her tongue, but it wasn’t much use. He looked ridiculous. His hair was matted down from the water, his eyebrow hairs were spiked up, and his shirt was soaked. He looked angry, but Sansa couldn’t help but laugh. 

 

“I’m glad you’re so amused by this.” He spit out. 

 

“I’m not.” Sansa turned her laughter into a cough. “It’s not funny. Arya shouldn’t have done that, it was wrong.” 

 

“Wrong? It was fucking insane.” Sandor brought a hand to his hair, and pushed it out of his face. 

 

Sanas bit her lip, and shook her head. “I’m really sorry, I told her not to do it.” 

 

“Why has this whole week been fucking insane? I mean, gods, Sansa this is fucking ridiculous.” 

 

“Sandor, do you want a towel or something?” 

 

“No, Sansa, I don’t want a fucking towel. I want my apartment, a bed, a couch.”  _ You . _

 

“I’m going to get you a towel.” Sansa turned around as Sandor sighed exasperation. 

 

What the hell did he do? He was tired, and his neck hurt like a son of a bitch. And Sansa was going on a about a towel. 

 

“Here you go.” 

 

“I don’t want the towel.” He needed the towel, but it was a matter of principle at this point. 

 

“But you need the towel.” Sansa stretched out her arm, trying to get him to take it. 

 

“I really don’t.” 

 

“You don’t think you do, but you need it.” 

 

“Sansa, I don’t need it. I’m almost dry.” 

 

“I’m trying to be nice here. Take the darn towel.” 

 

“You’re always nice, now I don’t want the towel.” 

 

“Fine.” She threw the towel at him, and it hit him in the face.

 

“Are you serious, Stark?” 

 

“I’m just saying, you may think you don’t need something, but you really do. And by the time you realize you don’t need it, you wanted it from the beginning because you were soaked, but then you’re almost dry, and the towel doesn’t serve a purpose anymore, but you want it. Just in case.” 

 

“What?” Sandor was more confused than ever. “Do you need the towel?” 

 

“No, yes. I’m not wet. Not anymore. But I may be later, so I will need the towel later, because it’s important, you know?” 

 

“No.” 

 

“Oh, well, my mom made breakfast. We’re leaving in an hour.” Sansa frowned and left the room. 

  
I _ have never been more confused in my life. _


	19. I Can't Take It Anymore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this is a little shorter, but you will like it. I'm sure.

For the last time, the Starks and Sandor sat around the table. Most of them were laughing about some story that happened years ago, but Sandor and Sansa sat in silence, looking over the conversation, but not participating. Sansa wanted to say more, but didn’t know how to.

Arya stood up, and excused herself. She walked towards the door that led to the garage, and disappeared for a couple moments, and came back in. She scurried up the stairs.

“What is she doing?” Rickon asked with a mouth of full pancakes.

“I haven’t a clue.” Bran answered while biting down on a piece of bacon.

“So I know you two don’t have a lot about the wedding set, but you do know anything about the honeymoon?”

“Can we not talk about the honeymoon? For my sake?” Ned looked over at his wife.

“Ned, they’re adults. I’m sure they’ve had,” she looked at youngest child, and then back her husband, “you know.”

“Oh my. Wow. We do not have to talk about this.” Sansa set her cup of coffee down, and glanced at Sandor.

“I just want to know a destination.” Cat held her hands up, and smiled.

“Alaska.”

“Paris.”

Both Sandor and Sansa answered at the same time. They looked at each other with the strangest expression.

“Alaska?” Sansa raised her eyebrow.

“Paris? Could you get any more stereotypical?” He let out a cough of indignation.  

“Alright, not what I was hoping to accomplish, but hey.” Cat laughed nervously.

“What is in Alaska?”

“Bears.”

“Bears?”

A quick curse from upstairs, and then Arya came skipping down.

“What did I miss?”

“What were you doing?” Sansa was happy for interruption.

“There was a problem with the bathroom door that I had to fix.”

“In the middle of breakfast?”

“Yes.”

Sansa rolled her eyes, “So, Robb when do you leave?”

He swallowed his last bit of eggs, and smiled at his family. “Tomorrow.”

“Are you taking the train out of town or flying?”

“Flying. I’m going to go visit Theon before I head back.”

Sandor leaned slightly closer to Sansa, and whispered, “Should we start getting our stuff together? It’s almost seven.”

“Yeah,” she turned to her mom. “We’re going to head up and finish packing.”

“Okay, I have some things for you as well. I’ll stick them in Sandor’s truck.” Cat called to her daughter.

“Perfect.” Arya smiled to herself.

Sansa opened her mouth to say something, but thought better of it.

Sandor looked better now that he had fully dried off, and changed out his pajamas. He was in dark jeans, and a thin hoody. His hair was still messy, but it was dry now, and had the tiniest bit of curl in it.

He walked up the steps, and Sansa followed behind him. She had replayed their earlier conversation in her head repeatedly, and each time she wanted to crawl into a hole. _Towels? That was the best I could come up with? Really?_  She wanted to smack herself.

They each went for their own bags, and started pushing clothes into them. She found a shirt of his in her bag, she simply laid it out on the bed.

He found her bra in his bag. It was a bright pink, with a bow in the middle. _I wonder what it looks like on her._  He shook his head, trying to get rid of that picture. She made herself perfectly clear. _This week played with her head, and she didn’t want anything more. Neither did he. Why would he? It’s not like she was amazing, and beautiful. She was out of his league. For fuck’s sake, she’s paying him to be here._

“Sandor?” Sansa called his name.

“What?” He turned around holding her bra. His face turned a light shade of pink.

“Is that my…?” Sansa trailed off.

“Uh, yeah.” He stretched out his hand, and tossed it over to her. “Here you go.”

“Oh. My. Gods.” Arya stood in the doorway. “I can’t take it anymore.”

She slammed the door shut, and the turning of the lock sounded.

Sansa ran to the door, and tried opening it. But couldn’t turn the handle. She went to unlock it, but the lock wasn’t there.

“Arya! What did you go?” Sansa smacked her hand against the door.

“You two need to figure this out. I’m not unlocking the door until you both tell each other everything.”

“Where is the lock? Arya, let us out!” Sasna tugged on the handle again.

“I switched the handle. Now, talk it out.”

“Mom! Dad! Somebody! Arya locked us in here! Mom!” Sansa kept tugging on the door. She looked back at Sandor who had a stone face.

“I’m with Arya on this one, dear. You two need to talk through your issues.” Cat’s voice rang through the room.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Sansa slid down onto the floor, and held her face in her hands. “I’m related to a bunch of crazies.”

Sandor stood for a moment, just staring at the door. Then returned to packing. He rolled his t-shirts and jeans onto the bottom of his bag, and then started throwing the rest.

“I’m so sorry,” Sansa started to say.

“Not your fault.”

“It is my fault. I made you come, and now we’re never going to leave. We’re trapped in my bedroom.”

“It’s fine. We’ll get out of here eventually, you’re sister’s crazy, but she doesn’t actually expect to keep us in here does she?”

“You really haven’t learned anything have you?”

“What does she want us to say, Sansa?” Sandor stopped packing, and looked at her. She still sat against the door, except now her head was leaning against it, and she looked like she might break down.

“I don’t know.”

“Really? You haven’t a single clue?” He thought of a hundred things he could say to her. This whole week, he dropped his number one principle, and lied. He hated it, but he didn’t think he would ever give it up, because it meant he had actually gotten to know her. But she still wouldn’t budge.

“No, Sandor, I don’t.” She stood up, and started to pace. “I don’t know what you guys want from me. You most of all. You’re the most confusing person I’ve ever met. You were so hateful and mean when we met, and now you put up with all this crap. I don’t understand, and you kiss me, and then you say this week has played with our minds. I don’t understand!”

“Kissed you? You said you didn’t remember.”

“Oh gods, Sandor, are you always this daft?”

“What?”

“Towels, Sandor. You’re a towel!”

“I don’t know what that means!”

She stopped pacing, and looked up towards the ceiling. Seven help me.

“I don’t remember exactly what happened. But you said that this week played with our minds. That this didn’t matter.”

“I never said that. You said that!”

“But you agreed with me!”

“Bloody hell, woman. I don’t know what you’re saying anymore.”

He stood at the side of the bed closest to the closet, and she skirted around so she stood across from him. The bed was the perfect blockade.

“I don’t know what to say, Sandor. I don’t know.” She tried to keep her voice level, but it was no use.

“Say what you’re feeling, woman. That’s it!” He rubbed at his temples. He needed to hear her say it.

“I don’t know! There is too much.”

He looked up, “Too much? But there’s something?”

“I don’t know. You said-”

“We know what I said, we know what you said. We know this already. Tell me what you’re thinking right now. Sansa, say something that isn’t about fucking towels. Where the fuck did the towels come from?” Sandor was practically yelling, but he didn’t care. He needed to know.

“Weren’t you supposed to be this absolute jerk? I was prepared for that. You’re the one that messed everything up!”

He stepped forward, and his shins were against the bedframe. “Stop changing the subject. I want you to tell me anything.”

“Sandor, I don’t know!”

“Bullshit. What about that phone call from Margaery? That night at the bar? You know something. I know something. Why are you hiding from it?”

“I - I want you. There I said it. I want you Sandor.” And with that, she jumped on the bed, and he did as well. They stood on the middle of the bed. He wrapped his hands around her cheeks, and she settled her fingertips on his waist.

Their lips didn’t touch, but they could feel each other’s breath. She looked up at him. He smiled down at her. Everything felt right. He traced his hands down her neck, her shoulder, and her arm. Goose prickles followed his fingers, and she couldn’t take it anymore.

She brought her lips up, and they connected. It wasn’t the same blur that she could barely remember from last time. It was… bliss. Their lips moved in unison, and she smiled as she kissed him.

“What?” He asked through kissing.

“Nothing, absolutely nothing.” Sansa pulled him closer.

**  
“Are you lovebirds done now?” Arya stood against the doorframe, smirking.**


	20. Though They Couldn't Say It

Sansa had folded herself in the front seat once more as they drove back to the city. The week, however long it felt, was over. Sandor glanced down at his hand wrapped around hers. 

 

_How did this happen?  I hated her, didn't I? _

 

He knew that was a lie, everything he thought to be true was a lie. He convinced himself that he hated her, but he didn't. Obviously, if he did, he would have never agreed to the whole scandal in the first place. He always had a soft spot for the redhead next door. How could he not? She was the sweetest creature he'd ever come across. 

 

Sansa adjusted herself, and made a soft noise. He loosened his grip on her, but she tightened her own. A small smile spread on his face. 

 

_I a m one lucky dog. _

 

He had two hours ahead of him on the near straight drive. He thought back on trying to leave the Stark's. Her parents still didn't know what was going on, they just thought he and Sansa were going through a lovers' quarrel. Her sister, the she devil that she is, had a triumphant smirk through the whole duration of the goodbye. 

 

That family, he thought, is one handful. He was glad to be gone. But he was happier to have went. He looked at Sansa once more, and squeezed her sleeping hand. 

 

***

 

"Sansa, wake up, we're back." He nudged her gently, and a sleepy Sansa blinked her eyes open and stretched out. 

 

"Already?" She looked around confused, and then at him. 

 

"You mean after nearly four hours of driving? Yes, already, sleeping beauty." He smiled at her from the driver's seat. 

 

"Why, Sandor, did you just call me beautiful?" Sansa unbuckled, and stretched once more, not fully awake. 

 

"Aye, that I did, Little Bird. And I'll be doing it again," he leaned towards her, "and again, and again. Everyday, for a very long time." 

 

Sansa leaned forward with a small smile, "Well, that's sounds like something I could get used to." 

 

Gently, their lips met. Her fingers made their to his shoulder, and gripped his shirt. She smiled against him, and start laugh softly. 

 

"What is it?" His grey eyes roamed over her face. 

 

"I can't believe this is happening. It seems surreal." Sansa's fingers lightly traced his neck, and then to his scars. "Almost as if it's a dream. Oh gods, I'm such a cliché." 

 

Sandor smiled one of the first genuine smiles she's seen,"Aye, that you are, but you deserve every damned cliche out there. From a dozen roses to walks on the beach, I want to give you all of it." 

 

Sansa's cell phone started ringing in the middle console, interrupting her response. 

 

"This is Sansa," Sansa spoke clearly into the phone. 

 

"Sansa! Are you back yet?" Myranda practically yelled at her. 

 

"I just got into town, but I'm not due back to work until Wednesday. Why? What's happened?" 

 

"It's probably not that important, but you've been getting a lot of calls and messages about this new project and they're all starting to sound frantic." 

 

Sansa rolled her eyes, and took a deep breath. "That's because there's a job on the line, Myranda." 

 

"I know, but..." 

 

"I'll be in tomorrow, and we'll settle this then. Now, all I want to do is take a hot shower." Sansa clicked her phone off and looked over at Sandor. She smiled, and leaned her head back against the seat. 

 

“It’s going to feel nice to sleep in my own bed again.” 

 

“It’s going to feel nice to sleep in  _a _ bed again.” Sandor chuckled. 

 

Sansa rolled her eyes, and moved to get out of the truck. Sandor grasped her hand, and leaned in again. Slowly, their lips connected again. 

 

“Definitely could get used to this.” Sansa smiled.

 

***

 

Sandor had piled Sansa’s suitcases into the back corner of the elevator and held his singular bag in one hand. 

 

They stood off to the side as the elevator rose up the three stories to their floor. Their fingers intertwined with one another. It was nice to finally be able to touch each other without looking for an excuse to do so. Sandor lifted a hand to play with the ends of her hair, just because he knew could. She glanced over at him, and smiled. Leaning her head on his shoulder, Sansa smiled and sighed. 

 

“What is it, little bird?” Sandor tightened his fingers around hers. 

 

Sansa didn’t answer right away, instead just smiled a smile that Sandor couldn’t see. “I don’t know. I’m just content, and that is so refreshing. Especially after this week. I just can’t believe I asked you to come with me. And that you agreed to it!” 

 

“You call me daft, little bird, but it may be you.” Sandor smirked as the elevator doors opened. 

 

Sansa stared after him, dumbfounded. “What?” 

 

Sandor grabbed most of her bags, leaving two for Sansa to carry for herself. He left the elevator without saying a word. 

 

“Sandor!” Sansa grabbed her two bags, and followed him around the corner. When she saw a blonde sitting outside her door, she dropped her bags. 

 

Sandor glanced back at her, and tried piecing it together. He knew this prick, in a way. He remembered him hanging around with Sansa about a year ago. But he thought that Sansa had left him. Or that he had left Sansa. What was his name? Jeff? 

 

“You need to leave,” Sansa pushed past Sandor stood over the blonde. 

 

“Sansa, please just hear me out. I just need to talk to you.” 

 

“Look,” Sandor stood behind Sansa, placing a hand on her back, letting her know that he was here. “Jeffrey-” 

 

“It’s Joffrey, you twat.” He stood up, and tried taking Sansa’s hand in his own. Sansa pulled away. 

 

“What are you doing here?” Sansa bit her lip, and took a step back. 

 

“I just need to talk to you. I want you to know-” he shot a look at Sandor, “Can we go inside?” 

 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Sansa whispered, thankful for Sandor’s presence behind her. 

 

“Sansa, honey, can we at least by ourselves?” Joffrey looked at her with pleading eyes. 

 

“I don’t…” Sansa looked around, “Sandor, why don’t you go put your bags away?” 

 

Sandor glanced down at her, and gave a small smile. He leaned down, and kissed her hair. “I’ll be just behind that door,” he whispered into her hair. 

 

In a few moments, Sandor disappeared behind his door, but left it cracked open. He thought back on how he knew that  _ Joffrey _ . He rattled his brain, trying to find it. When he heard his voice again, it came to him. 

 

_ I punched the prick. Seven hells, I punched the fucker.  _ Sandor burst out a laugh. It was a late night, Sandor had just gotten home after a terrible day of work, and the bastard was sitting out her door, much like he was just now. He had heard Sansa crying inside, and the prick was yelling. 

 

He remembered saying, “If you don’t shut that wormy mouth of yours, I’m going to smash your head into that door.” 

 

The bastard had laughed, and continued to yell, calling Sansa absurd things. It pushed Sandor over the edge. 

 

\--

 

“What are you doing here?” Sansa avoided eye contact with him. 

 

“I’m a fool, Sansa. Let’s stop playing these games. You know you still love me, come on, Dove, let’s run off again.” Joff put his hand on her arm, and it sent shivers running through her body. 

 

“What are you talking about? We haven’t been together for a year. You need to leave, now.” Sansa reached into her purse, and searched for her keys. 

 

“Why? So you can go back to that ugly fucker you call a man?” 

 

“Hey! Do not call him that,” Sansa turned to him, and glared at him, “The only monster here is you.” 

 

Joffrey grabbed her arm, and squeezed. Sansa yelped, and Sandor immediately swung his door open. 

 

He got uncomfortably close to Joffrey, “You need to leave.” 

 

“You don’t get to tell me what to do, dog.” He practically spit on Sandor .

 

“Sansa, go into my apartment.” Sandor didn’t let his eyes leave Joffrey. 

 

“Sandor, please,” Sansa wrenched her arm away from Joffrey, and placed her hand on Sandor’s shoulder. 

 

“Please, Sansa, go into my apartment.” 

 

Sansa looked at the boy and the man.  _Lovely , she thought. A perfect day ruined. _

 

She closed the door with a click. 

 

Sandor backed Joffrey against the wall, “Okay, asshole, I don’t care who you think you are. Leave Sansa alone.” 

 

“Who do you think you are?” Joffrey tried to make himself look bigger against Sandor, but it was no use. 

 

“It doesn’t matter, Sansa doesn’t want you here.” 

 

“I see,” he smirked a bit, “you think she’s yours now, do you? Let me tell me you something, she’s not. She’s mine, she’s always been mine.” 

 

Sandor slammed a hand on the wall next to Joffrey’s face, soon veins were starting to become visible on his forehead and neck, “No! She is not yours, and she is not mine. She is hers. She is a person, and she doesn’t belong to anyone. Now, leave and don’t show your face around here. She doesn’t want you here. Now, go fuck a whore, and leave her alone.” 

 

Try as hard as he might, Joffrey started to shake against the wall. Putting on a stone face, he pushed past Sandor walked towards the elevator. 

 

Sansa cracked the door open, and made eye contact with Sandor. She pushed  the door open, and he made his way to her, and wrapped her into a hug. 

 

“Thank you,” she whispered into his skin. She pulled away, and kissed him. 

 

“Sansa,” Sandor held her face in his hands.

 

“Yes?” Her mouth hung open slightly. 

 

“I would love to take you to dinner, would you do me the honor of accompanying me?” 

 

Sansa laughed, and wiped a stray tear away, “I would love to.” 

 

_ I love you ,  _ he thought. Though he couldn’t say it. 

 

Sansa looked at his eyes _,_ _ I love you . _ She thought this to herself, though she couldn’t say it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll do this at the end, that way you get to enjoy the story first! 
> 
> So, first of all, I AM SO SORRY. life caught up with, but I am on winter break now, so i hope to finish this story.   
> I haven't been able to update bc first i got a bf, then my senior started, i got sick, and then my bf cheated on me, so now i'm back to my hermit ways! (: much more writing for me now! also, if you have any prompts you would like me to write, just let me know! 
> 
> as always, THANK YOU for reading, i appreciate more than you know!


	21. My Strong Knight

Sansa stood under the spray of the shower, letting the warm water drench over her. It slowly washed away the past week. She awkwardly found a twig in her hair, _how long has that been in there?_

 

She switched off the water, and from the new silence she could hear Sandor on the other side of the wall, blaring music and talking on the phone at the same time. She rubbed the towel throughout her hair, and smiled to herself. Picking her robe off the hook, Sansa thought about the past week.

 

_I never thought this would happen. Ever. Sandor was always so hateful, but how can one go from being so hateful to so kind in a matter of days? It wasn’t possible; it just wasn’t. Maybe he never hated her as much as she thought. I love him. I love him so much, and that’s ridiculous. I’ve only really known him for a week. But maybe these feelings have been buried much longer than I thought._

 

Her cell phone started ringing from the kitchen, and Sansa pulled herself out of the trance, and padded across the tiled floors to the kitchen.

 

She read Marge’s name on the display. Sansa shook her damp hair out of the way, and smiled as she answered, “Hello!”

 

“Well, good afternoon, sunshine.” Marge laughed as she spoke. “I assume you got home safe, and are shagging Sandor right now?”

 

“If I were shagging Sandor right now, I would not be answering the phone.” Sansa laughed, and started to rummage through her cupboards.

 

“Oh my, you are in a good mood. I was expecting cries of indignation, but I’ll take my sweet sassy Sansa.”

 

“Was there something I could help you with?” Sansa found a box of cookies in the cupboard next to the fridge. She debated on whether not to actually eat them, since she was going out to eat. _To heck with it, I’m going to eat the cookies._ She chuckled to herself.

 

“I was actually calling because I heard about a Joffrey incident, but I’d rather much hear about how Sandor is in bed. I bet with the those strong, big hands of his that he’s able to work some sort of magic-”

 

“Gods, Marge! That’s enough. We haven’t been _together_ yet. We’re actually going out to dinner tonight. I just got out of the shower, and was going to start getting ready.” Sansa took a bite of a cookie, and saw the red mark from Joff’s hand. She pushed her sleeve back down.

 

“Skip the dinner, go to the wild sex. I say this from personal experience, babe.” Marge laughed again, “Get that horrified expression off your face, you know you’ve thought about it, and I know about the bar. Your sister sent me the video.”

 

“Of course she did. I was drunk, Marge. We’ve been drunk before.”

 

“Ah, we have. But you have never gone up on someone like that. I need you come over immediately and tell me everything. I feel so left out of the loop.” Sansa could practically see Marge pouting.

 

“I’ll be at work on Wednesday; we’ll take a long lunch and catch up. Now, I have to start getting ready.”

 

“Sansa, I have to warn you, he may want you to put out on the first date, and I’m here to tell you: do it. Do the do!”

 

Sansa started laughing despite herself, and hung up.

 

Sansa picked up the control to her radio, and pressed play. A bright, energized song started playing throughout her whole apartment. Her feet immediately started to dance, and she raised her arms. She bounced her way back to the bathroom.

 

Standing in front of the mirror, she looked at her sunkissed skin. _That will be peeling later._ She ran her hands through her hair, pulling knots apart with her fingers. She tried figuring out what kind of look she should take tonight. He just spent the past week with her, so he already knew what she looked like with no makeup, or when she just woke up, or drunk, or hungover. He’s seen at her lows.

 

Making faces in the mirror, she tried to figure it out. _Sexy and sultry? Light and fun? Pretty and pink? Natural and tired?_  She heaved out a breath, and reached for the hair dryer. She flipped her head over, and ran the hot hair over and over it. She started singing with the song, and used the hair dryer as a microphone as she kept getting ready.

 

\--

 

Sandor stepped out of his shower, and shook his hair out of his face. He was weeks past due for a haircut, but he didn’t dwell on it. He looked in the mirror, examining his stubbled face, and scars.

 

_Unbelievable, an ugly man like me in love with a beauty like her. This is impossible. She must still be drunk. This is a mistake, a terrible mistake. Gods, I’ve made a fool of myself. She doesn’t care about me._

 

“Shut up, you stupid man.” He said to himself. _She would never lead someone on. She’s too beautiful for that._

 

He dug out his razor out the drawer, and the started his least favorite ritual. Wetting the razor, Sandor heard Sansa singing on the other side of the wall. Just hearing her voice made him smile.

 

_You’re in deep, you idiot._

 

As he was serenaded by Sansa, he finished shaving with little blood, which was always good sign. He walked over to his mostly grey bedroom with little splashes of yellow splattered about on his bed and on the walls in photographs. Sandor thought back to how Sansa had stated blankly that it was obvious that yellow was his favorite color. He’d never even realized.

 

How could Sansa, at that someone he’d barely known, know that about him? Why did she care? Sandor ran a hand through his hair, and looked quizzically around his room. Shaking his head, Sandor turned to his closet. Though he had technically already won the little bird over, he was still going to try to impress her. Should he get her flowers? Gods, he had no idea how to do this. He had never _dated_ anyone.

 

Starting to pace, he heard his phone start buzzing on the nightstand.   

 

He snatched up the phone without looking at who it was, “Hello.”

 

“Sandor! Are you finally back? Because let me tell you, I am sick of being this boss thing. People always bothering you, asking for breaks and food and shit. Please tell me you’re back.” Bronn’s voice was singing through the phone.

 

“I’m back, but I’m not coming in today.” Sandor ripped a black tee from his closet, and a pair of dark wash jeans from his dresser.

 

“What do you mean? We need you, man.”

 

“No, you don’t. Get out of my chair.” Sandor said the last part as a joke, but Bronn started grumbling.

 

“How do you always know?” A crash sounded in the background, “Why aren’t you coming in? I thought you’d want to make sure I didn’t burn the place down.”

 

“What’s going on over there?” Sandor held his phone against his shoulder and ear as he pulled up his jeans.

 

“Nothing. Say, are you not coming in today because of a certain flying animal?”

 

“Flying animal? What the fuck are you going on about?”

 

“Seven hells, take a joke. Are you not coming in because of Sansa Stark?” Sandor could hear Bronn’s smirk through the phone.

 

“I never said that.”

 

“No need, mate.”

 

“Is that all then?” Sandor was getting ready to hang up the phone, but Bronn interrupted him.

 

“No. Just, Sandor, I’m happy for you, man. I know you’ve been waiting for this.” Bronn clicked his phone off.

 

“What?” Sandor said to the empty room. Shaking his head, he went back to the bathroom to figure out what to do with the mop on his head.

 

His phone buzzed one more time, he looked at the message.

 

All it said was, “She loves flowers - A.S”

 

_I was already going to buy her flowers._ He grabbed his jacket from the table by the door, and headed to the florist down the block.

 

***

Sandor stood in front of her door fidgeting like a teenager. Gods, he couldn't believe he was this nervous. He shouldn't be this nervous; he had just spent a week with and her whole fucking family.

 

That was different; they didn't know what was going to happen. She just needed a scapegoat. But now... Now he wanted her to like him, which meant that he was going to fuck it up somehow.

 

Gathering up the little courage he had, Sandor knocked on the door threes times. He adjusted the giant bouquet of flowers in his arm. Some of the flowers caught on the zipper of his jacket. He started cursing under his breath.  

 

The door opened to reveal Sansa. She stood in a strapless white dress that floated to her knees. Her bare shoulders had a light dusting of freckles and were a pale pink.  Her hair curled in waves that reminded him of a mermaid.

 

When he looked at her face, she was smiling at him. A full, bright smile, one that he had wanted to see for years. Her eyes were darker and had amber on her lids. This brought the blue to look brighter and deeper.

 

"Fuck me bloody," Sandor stared at her as if she were the moon.

 

Sansa's smile faltered, but she kept it on. "What?"

 

Sandor bit his tongue. _Perfect._

 

"Nothing, I just... you blow me away." _Now, I definitely sound like a love - struck teenager._

 

"Oh, thanks." She played with her hair a bit, not knowing what to do next.

 

Sandor moved his arms, and felt the rustling of flowers. "Oh, these are for you."

 

He pushed the flowers into her arms. Her face lit up, not noticing the flowers before.

 

"These are gorgeous. They're so colorful! I love them! Thank you. I'll put these in a vase." She turned around, leaving the door ajar.

 

He awkwardly stood there, not knowing if he should go inside or not.

 

Sansa looked over her shoulder, "You can come in."

 

Sandor put his hands in his pockets, and stepped tentatively through the doorway.

 

"These... oh gods, I love these. Thank you. I hope they last for a while." Sansa babbled as filled a clear vase with water.

 

In reality, he didn't hear her. He nodded with what she was saying, but he couldn't focus. His thoughts were a cycle of _gods, she's fucking beautiful_ and _how the fuck am I going to mess it up?_

 

As if not controlling his own body, Sandor walked to her, and placed a hand on her arm. She jumped slightly, but then relaxed against him. He placed his other hand on her other arm and began to rub them.

 

He moved her hair to one side, and leaned down to kiss her neck. His lips traced the curves of her neck up to the outline of her jaw.

 

"How can someone be so beautiful?" His breath was warm against her skin.

 

Sansa's breathing deepened, and she turned to look at him, "You flatter me, Clegane. However, if you keep doing that, then I don't believe we'll ever make it to dinner."

 

He coughed abruptly, "You're right, Stark. I still have wooing to do."

 

"I wouldn't say that, but there's no point in not trying." She winked at him, and grabbed a small purse off the counter.

 

"Off to the carriage then, m'lady." He did a mock bow, drawing a laugh from Sansa.

  
"Carry on, my strong knight."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am posting this from my phone, so I am sorry for any errors! 
> 
> ○THANKS FOR READING, I LOVE YOU ALL○


	22. The Things You Do To Me

The sun was starting to set behind the rows of skyscrapers. The sky was no longer blue, but instead it was pink, orange, and purple. The air became chilled; goosebumps crawled around Sansa’s shoulders.

 

Her hand was tucked gently in Sandor’s. They just finished eating at a local restaurant that she had never heard of. She knew they would be going back, because they had the  _ best  _ chicken wraps she’d ever had. Now they were walking to a pub that she had never heard of. So much in this city that she didn’t know. 

 

“Sansa?” Sandor looked down at her, smiling. 

 

“Sorry, what did you say?” Sansa smiled sheepishly. She was too busy looking around, trying to soak in every detail. The colors of the sky, the smells of the city, the feel of Sandor’s hand in hers; all were perfect to her. 

 

“Nothing of importance, I just wanted to see your eyes.” Suddenly, he pulled between two building, and lightly pushed her against the brick. 

 

The bricks scratched against her exposed skin, but she didn’t feel it. She looked up at his face, and bit her lip gently. She felt Sandor groan, “You kill me, Stark.” 

 

Sansa placed her arm on his arm, “I want to make you feel alive.” 

 

“Aye, you do that as well.” Sandor put his hand under her chin, and tilted it up. Slowly, he placed his lips on hers.  _ Always like lemons .  _

 

Sansa smiled against the kiss. When he broke away, Sansa pouted. 

 

“Not enough for you, little bird?” Sandor smirked at her, and grabbed her hand. 

 

“Never from you.” Sansa bit her lip again. 

 

“You flatter me,” he looked around, and saw the people staring at them He knew why, and tried to not let it get to him. He glanced down at Sansa, who was oblivious.  _ She never notices that kind of stuff. _

 

“How much longer?” Sansa squeezed his hand gently. 

 

He blinked a couple of times, trying to get the negative thoughts out of his head. “Just over one block. Don’t worry, little bird.” 

 

“I’m not,”

 

“Good,” he smiled. 

 

The walked the rest of the way in comfortable silence. An occasional squeeze of their hands was all they needed. 

 

As they walked up to the pub, Sansa smiled.  _ I can see him here; drinking a beer after a hard day.  _ The pub looked modest, with a simple double-door entry and lamps hanging on either side. A sign read, “The Irish”. 

 

“The Irish?” Sansa looked at Sandor with a gleam in her eye. “I thought you were Scottish?” 

 

“I am?” Sandor didn’t see through the joke. 

 

“Nevermind,” Sansa muttered as he opened the door, and it was as if she stepped into a different world. The outside would not give way to how crowded the bar was on the inside. Men drinking with friends, crying out in laughter every five seconds; women sitting at a bar, deep in conversation; even families sat at the tables eating and laughing. 

 

_ Wow , _ she thought,  _ i t feels like a home in here. _

 

“Sandor, you get your bloated ass over here!” A woman yelled from behind the bar. 

 

Sandor looked over and smiled wide at the woman, “Aye! I didn’t do anything!” 

 

The woman waddled her way under the bar, and around the people to them. “Where have you been this past week? We thought you to be dead! No words or anything!” 

 

Sansa looked down, feeling guilty. 

 

“Well, take a good long look at me, and I think even you can see I’m not dead.” The woman whipped her rag at Sandor, but laughed anyway. 

 

She glanced over at Sansa, eyeing her from her shoes to her hair. Sansa could see the judgement in her eyes; it took all of Sansa’s willpower to not squirm. “And who might this be, Sandor?” 

 

Sandor grabbed Sansa’s hand, and smiled at the woman, “This is Sansa; I was hoping we could have the terrace tonight.” 

 

“It’s good to meet you, Sansa. I’m Claudia.” She smiled warmly at Sansa, and looked back to Sandor. “Of course you can; you go on ahead, and I’ll have Lydia bring you drinks.” 

 

“Thank you,” Sansa smiled at Claudia, and followed Sandor as he made his way through the crowd. 

 

The went through two back hallways and up an old staircase before coming to a door. He nudged it open, and a small terrace opened up. It had a black antique fence around it, with a single table. 

 

Sansa looked out to see a view of the city, the river, and the woods beyond. She stood speechless. 

 

Sandor stood behind her, looking at the view as well. But his main focus was on her. Her curled hair was more windblown than curled now. Her makeup was faded, but her eyes were still as bright. He loved the look of her face. Always, when she was happy, sad, or angry. Her face was always so expressive, and he hoped to see it everyday for a long time.  _ Gods, I love her. _

 

“This is so… gorgeous. It’s… wow. You know how to woo a girl.” Sansa laughed, and glanced up at Sandor. 

 

“Thank you, I guess.” Sandor laughed, and brushed her hair to one side. He gingerly kissed her neck, just as he had done earlier in the day. 

“Keep-” 

 

A knock interrupted Sansa’s line of thinking, and a young girl brought in a bottle of wine and a pint of some sort of beer. 

 

“Thank you,” Sansa smiled at the girl as she left as quickly as she had come in. 

 

“I suppose we sit now,” Sandor pulled out a chair for Sansa, and then sat down himself. 

 

“So, are you going to tell me what down stairs was about?” Sansa laughed as she poured herself a glass of wine.

 

“What?” 

 

“Who was that woman?” Sansa placed her chin on her knuckles, “A past lover, perhaps?” 

 

“Claudia? Gods, no.” He made a look of disgust, drawing a deep throated laugh from Sansa. 

 

“No? What then? Partners in crime? Do you have smuggling ring?” Sansa’s eyes lit up with mischief. 

 

“She’s like a mother to me. Gods, I’ve been coming here since I was 20.” Sandor slurped the foam off the top of the beer, leaving a mustache on his clean shaven face. 

 

Sansa reached her arm across the table, and with her thumb she brushed it, and then licked it off her own thumb, “Twenty? Before the legal drinking age, I am disappointed in you.” 

 

Sandor’s eyes were locked on her lips. His stomach tightened and released over and over again. 

 

“Sandor?” Sansa snapped her fingers. 

 

“Sorry, what?” Sandor refocused his eyes. “She’s like my mother. She looked out for me whenever I got piss drunk here, which was almost every weekend of my twenties.” 

 

“That poor woman. You’re a mess when you’re drunk.” Sansa smirked at him, and looked again over the view. 

 

“I’m a mess? Do you know what you’re like when you’re drunk?” Sandor laughed, and took another gulp of his beer. 

 

“I am fun when I’m drunk!” Sansa gaped at him. Fake hurt plastered over her face, “You’re just jealous of me.” 

 

“Jealous? No.” Sandor smirked. 

 

“Not jealous, but what?” Sansa loved this banter; she had never done this before. “Tell me, Sandor. What is it you are?” 

 

“You’re going to need to get more than just a pint into me to have me spill all my secrets, Stark.” 

 

“I’m not asking you to spill every secret, maybe just a few.” Sansa poured another glass of wine, and smiled. “Not even one for me?” 

 

Sandor leaned on the table, “You are one greedy woman.” 

 

“Not greedy, but… okay, maybe a little greedy. Is that such a bad thing?” Sansa’s phone started buzzing in her purse. She dug it out, and looked at the display, her sister’s name appeared across the top. She pressed decline, and turned the phone off. 

 

“Sorry, I thought it was off.” Sansa set her purse on the floor, making it clear her full attention was on Sandor. 

 

“Not a problem.” Sandor looked over at the sky again, and it was getting darker. The woods were becoming increasingly black, and the city continued to light up. The river reflected the light of both the city and the sky. 

 

“What are you thinking about?” Sansa’s playful banter was all but gone, tenderness now encaptured her features. 

 

He took a moment to look away from the scenery, “I don’t know. I guess I was just thinking about why we used to hate each other.” 

 

“Well, to be fair, I never  _ hated _ you. I just thought you to be a little harsh, and mean. Rude, and controlling. But I knew there was a nicer side to you.” Sansa reached a hand across the table to his. She rubbed her thumb across his knuckles, “I always thought you to be handsome, and powerful. When you walk somewhere, you take control. I always noticed that about you.” 

 

“How long have you been noticing things about me?” Sandor cocked an eyebrow up. 

 

“I don’t know; I guess I’m just observant.” Sansa smiled, and squeezed her hand on his. “Did you really hate me?” 

 

“No, I guess not. I think I didn’t like the idea of you. You are this beautiful creature, with a voice of an angel. You are so kind to everything and everyone. I figured you would have a high horse, and think yourself to even look at me. I see now, how wrong I was, but still. I thought it for the longest time. Then slowly, you would talk to me, then I would make an asshole comment back to you. It turned to be our relationship; little stupid fights. I started instigating them, telling you your music was too loud; I could hear you singing. It was childish, but I got to talk to you more and more.” 

 

Sansa gazed at him, soaking in every word he was saying. She looked back on their time knowing each other, and it was as if pieces fell into place. Suddenly, she stood up. Confused, Sandor stood up as well. 

 

She moved before she realized what she was doing. Her lips were on his. Their mouths danced with each other. Her hands were in his hair, and his were on her waists. He looked surprised, but that didn’t last long. He backed her against the railing. The cool air wafted around them. 

 

People down by the river looked up, and started cheering. But Sandor and Sansa couldn’t hear them. They were gone, lost to the world. All that was left was them, nothing was beyond their skin. 

 

Sansa broke away, catching her breath. “Oh, gods. Sandor, the things you do to me.”

 

“The things I do to you? Do you mean what you do to me? Seven hells, I can’t breathe, Sansa. This past week, you have enchanted me. I can’t think unless it is of you. I can’t speak, unless it is of you. Seven hells. I - Sansa,” Sandor’s breath was ragged, and uneven. He pulled her in for another kiss. 

 

_ Bliss, this is bliss. _ Sansa could cry. She might actually be crying.  _ Is this what happiness is? _

 

***

 

Sansa was wrapped in Sandor’s jacket as they stood in the elevator, going up to their floor. Tried as she might, she could not keep a smile off her face. 

 

Sandor stood inches away from Sansa, but she could feel his heat. Her stomach tightened, and she bit her lip. 

 

“Is there something I should know, little bird?” Sandor didn’t look at her, but he knew she was blushing. 

 

“Nope.” She bit her lip harder. 

 

His hand slipped around her waist, and pulled her closer. “Nothing, at all?” 

 

“Quite presumptuous, Clegane.” Sansa looked up at him, and he captured her lips. 

 

She was the one this time to back him against the wall. Her arms were around his neck, and she tightened against him. Her thin dress hid nothing from him. 

 

“Praise the seven for you, Sansa Stark.” He kissed her neck, her shoulders, and her lips. 

 

The elevator dinged, and the doors opened. Sansa jumped as fast as she possibly could. 

 

An old man and an old woman walked in. They stole glances at Sandor and Sansa as they elevator continued to go up. They snickered at one another, and the woman whispered to the man. 

 

“I remember when we were that young and in love.” The man smiled at them, as the elevator dinged once more at Sansa’s and Sandor’s floor. 

 

Sansa pushed past Sandor to get off first, “Gods! That was so embarrassing! I have never been so mortified in my entire life!” 

 

Sandor leaned against the wall, “Not even when your parents found us in the closet?” 

 

Sansa turned to him, ready to retort, but her words were lost. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to reveal his forearms, and his mouth had a small smirk on it. 

 

“I’m going to let that one one pass because of utterly attractive you look right now.” Sansa bit her tongue, but she didn’t regret the words. 

 

“Attractive, eh?” Sandor  pushed off the wall, and stepped towards her, “I could say the same about you.” 

 

“You could, huh? Why don’t you?” Sansa slowly draped off his jacket, and tossed it to Sandor. With soft steps, Sansa walked back over to her door. Picking up the hem of her dress, Sansa exposed more of her legs. 

 

“Sansa, the things you are capable of,” Sandor breathed out. 

 

“Why don’t you come inside and show me?” Sansa smiled as she pulled out her keys. 

 

“Why don’t I?” Sandor leaned a shoulder on her doorframe, and as she opened her door, he grabbed her by the hips, and pressed his body into hers. 

 

Her purse dropped to the floor with a soft thud. His jacket was tossed to the side with little thought. 

 

He picked her up with no effort, and set her on the island. Her legs sat on both sides of his waist, and she eagerly worked at the buttons of his shirt. He searched for the zipper of her dress, and he found it hidden on the side. He pushed the dress to her waist. A soft pink bra lay on her chest. 

 

“Seven hells, Sansa.” He looked up to the gods he didn’t believe in, and silently thanked them. 

 

She finished unfastening the last button, and ripped the shirt off his shoulders. His muscles stretched and contracted as he dragged his hands down her sides. 

 

She laughed as he softly brushed a hand across her stomach.  _ I love you.  _ She thought over and over,  _I love you, I love you, I love you.  There’s nothing I need more at this moment than you. I need you, gods, I need you. _

 

As she started to play with the button on his pants, his phone started ringing from his back pocket. 

 

Sandor lifted his head from her neck, and practically growled. He ripped the phone from his pocket, “Shit, Sansa, I have to take this.” 

 

Sansa nodded, “Of course, go ahead.” 

 

“Sorry,” He answered, “What’s going on?” 

 

Sansa couldn’t hear the other side of the conversation, but the expression on Sandor’s face changed drastically. 

 

“How many? Fuck, who else? Are they alright? Fuck! No, I’m coming down to the hospital.” 

 

Sandor hung up the phone, and rubbed his face. He looked at Sansa, beautiful Sansa, sitting on the island half naked. “There was a fire at one of our locations. Bronn’s in the hospital. I have to go. I’m so sorry.” 

 

Sansa didn’t look upset, “I’ll come with you.” 

 

She jumped off the countertop, and went into her room, and came out, holding jeans and a sweater. 

 

“You don’t have to, Sansa. Just stay here,” Sandor grabbed his shirt, and started buttoning it up again. 

 

“I’m coming,” Sansa pulled up her jeans, and buttoned them up. “Don’t try to stop me.” 

 

_Seven hells, I love you. _

 

“Fine,” Sandor grabbed his jacket off the floor. 

 

She placed her hand on his forearm, “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.” 

  
He looked at her, worry strong in his features, “Thank you.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm quite devilish I know. 
> 
> I hope you all had a happy holiday! 
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	23. Hello Pretty Lady

"Sandor, slow down. Sandor," Sansa hurried after Sandor, "hey. Stop. Breathe."

 

She put a hand on his shoulder, "Let me drive. You've been drinking, and you're not thinking clearly." 

 

"I'm fine. I'm thinking fine. I just need to get to the hospital." He shook his head, trying to jar out the thoughts that were whirling around his mind. 

 

"Hey, it's okay. I'm sure what you're thinking is worse than what actually happened." Sansa tried to rub his arm lightly, but he pulled away. 

 

"It's not, Sansa. It's not okay, none of this is okay." His hands were idly tracing his own scars as he trudged on, his head filling with his own terrible memories, and now his best friend was in the same torment. None of this was okay.

 

Sansa bit her tongue; she didn't know what to say to him. She never had anyone close to her get hurt. Never in a fire. Gods, what he must going through. 

 

"Sandor, give me the keys. I'll drive, you make the calls you need to. I know you have to contact his family." Sansa fished the keys from his hand. 

 

He didn't say anything right away, just dropped the keys into her palm. "He doesn't have any family." 

 

Sansa breathed deeply, and made the way to his truck. She got into the driver's seat, and her feet barely touched the pedals. 

 

Sandor looked over at her, "Thank you." 

 

As she started the truck, she smiled at him, but said nothing. She reached across, and gripped his hand. 

 

Sansa pulled the truck onto the road, navigating under the street lamps. They didn't hit any red lights, and got to the hospital in under ten minutes. 

 

Sandor hastily climbed out of the truck, slamming the door. Sansa followed him silently. 

 

They entered through the main door, nurses turned their heads at the giant of the man who just walked in.

 

"Hi, we're looking for Bronn..." Sansa trailed off, looking towards Sandor. 

 

"Where is he?" Sandor looked around. 

 

She had never seen him like this. He was genuinely worried, near frantic. 

 

"Sandor," a kid in a wheelchair rolled up to the pair of them. 

 

"Gendry, thank the gods. Where is Bronn?" Sandor looked at him eagerly.

 

"He's up two floors. Wanna follow me?" Gendry smiled up at them. 

 

"Yes, thank you." Sansa smiled. 

 

"Hello, pretty lady." Gendry winked at her as he started rolling towards the elevator. 

 

"Don't." Sandor clipped. Then in the elevator, Sandor placed a hand on Gendry's shoulder. "Are you okay?" 

 

"Me? I'm fine, nothing like falling through a ceiling to really knock the wind out of you. Bronn, though, he's not doing the best." 

 

"What do you mean? Is he okay?" 

 

"He's fine; he's sleeping right now." The elevator dinged, and they all followed Gendry. 

 

"Mr. Waters! How many times have we told you to stay in your room until you have been cleared?" An older nurse scowled at the trio. 

 

"Hi, excuse us, but Sandor Clegane is looking for Bronn..." Sansa smiled at the nurse. 

 

"Blackwater." Sandor supplied while looking around. 

 

"Family only, sorry ma'am." The nurse circled around behind the desk.  

 

"I'm his boss, and I need to see him. Tell me everything about what happened." Sandor looked around, trying to peer into nearby rooms. 

 

"You're the owner of Clegane Independent Contracting?" The nurse cocked an eyebrow over her glasses. 

 

"Yes, now tell me where Bronn is." 

 

"He's over in room 230, visiting hours are over in a half hour."  She didn't smile, but she had a slight gleam in her eye. 

 

Sandor started walking, turning around the corner. Gendry followed, looking back at the nurse's station. Sansa stayed back, "Thank you, we really appreciate it." 

 

"You can take a seat over there." 

 

"Oh, thank you." Sansa walked over, and took a seat in an uncomfortable chair. She went into her purse, picking out her phone. 

 

She pushed it on, and looked around the waiting room. It was empty except for her. 

 

Three missed calls and four texts. Thanks Arya. 

 

Heavy footsteps sounded near her. She looked up to see a doctor smiling at her. 

 

"Hello," she smiled at the doctor, but was confused as to why the doctor was anywhere near her. 

 

"You're much too pretty to be here all by your lonesome. Why don't you accompany a weary doctor for a cup of coffee?" His blue eyes crinkled at the corners, and his smile was attractive. 

 

Sansa looked around, not knowing what to do. "I'm sorry, but I'm not here by my lonesome. I'm here with my... I don't know what he is, but I'm sorry, I can't get coffee with you." 

 

The doctor smiled again, and lifted a hand and ruffled his dirty blonde hair. "No worries, but I would never leave you out in a waiting room." 

 

Sansa bit back a snort. "I'll keep that in mind." 

 

The doctor walked away, and Sansa started shaking her head. 

 

She pressed her voicemail, and brought her phone to her ear. 

 

"Sansa! This is your emergency call in case your date with the dog isn’t going well!” Arya’s voice screamed into her ear. 

 

*deleted*

 

“Sansa, hey it’s Arya. I’m not feeling so well, so if you could come get me-” 

 

*deleted*

 

“Hi, it’s Marge. I’m just calling to let you know we had a visit from Joff earlier. We had security take care of it, but honey, you need to talk to me about this. Call me as soon as you can.” 

 

Sansa pushed stray hairs behind her ear, and began to dial Marge. 

 

“Ms. Tyrell’s phone,” Her assistant answered automatically. 

 

“It’s Sansa Stark, could you put her on?” 

 

“Certainly, Ms. Stark.” 

 

“Sansa Stark, don’t you dare leave me dangling out on a line like that again.” Margaery’s voice pierced through the phone.

 

“I’m sorry. Marge, I’m at the hospital right now,” Sansa looked around. 

 

“Oh gods, your dad? Mom? Is it Arya again?”

 

“No, I was on that date with Sandor, and it was going really well-” 

 

“Really well as in the talk was good or really well as in we were about do it on the kitchen counter?” Marge interrupted. 

 

“Not important,” Sansa bit back. “Anyway he got a call, and there was a fire on one of his sites, and now I’m sitting in a waiting room.” 

 

“I’m on my way.” 

 

“Marge, you don’t -” Margaery hung up the phone. 

 

\--

 

“Bronn,” Sandor stepped into the eerily white room. 

 

“He’s sleeping at the moment,” A nurse in bright purple scrubs said without looking at Sandor. 

 

“No, I’m not, you bloody witch. I’m watching the television.” Bronn’s humor was seemingly unharmed from the fire. As was most of him. 

 

He had bandages wrapped around both his arms, and one of his hands had gauze wrapped around it so it looked like a club. 

 

“What happened?” Sandor took the chair next to the bed, and leaned forward. 

 

“Something with the wires, we all knew it was an old house, and we had to be careful. But one of the newer guys kept screwing around, not paying attention. Next thing I know the insolation is next  to the wires, for some fucking reason, and the thing went up in fucking flames. I don’t fucking know. Fire that damned kid, Sandor. He’s an idiot.” 

 

“Trust me, he’ll be gone in the morning. But you’re okay? Nothing too terrible?” This is was the most emotion Bronn had seen from Sandor. 

 

“Good. Now, hand me that pudding.” 

 

Sandor silently handed Bronn the brown and white pudding, and Gendry started making clucking noises with his tongue. 

 

“Oh, what the hell are you doing?” Bronn raised his voice against the noise. 

 

“Say Sandor,” Gendry coughed, “didn’t you have a girl with you?” 

 

“Seven hells, you brought Sansa here?” Bronn gaped at Sandor. “Why would you do that?” 

 

“She insisted.” He looked around, “Why didn’t she just follow us?” 

 

Gendry backed his chair, and peered out into the nearly empty hallway. “She must be in the waiting room, want me to go get her?” 

 

“No,”

 

“Yes,” 

 

Sandor and Bronn spoke at the same time. 

 

“Oh, what’s the matter, Clegane? After your girlfriend’s going to get scared away by my little scars when she’s had all damn week to deal with your ugly ass?” Both Bronn and Gendry let out a laugh at Sandor’s scowling face.

 

“Shut your ass, Bronn.” Sandor sat in the chair next to the bed. “How long are you going to be out?” 

 

“As long as I can milk this shit.” Bronn smiled with no teeth as he struggled to open the pudding cup single handedly. 

 

“Obviously, but how long is that going to be?” Sandor snatched the cup, and opened it. 

 

“I’d say about a month or two. His burns weren’t nearly as bad as they could have been, but they still need time to heal. He also broke a finger somehow in the process,” The nurse in the bright purple scrubs spoke, and then silently walked out. 

 

“Fuck me bloody,” Sandor raked a hand through his hair.

 

“I’m fine, Sandor, I’ll be back soon enough. Now, why the fuck did you bring a date to this shitty ass hospital?” 

 

“I didn’t bring her, she -” His words broke off as the sounds of heels echoed in the hallway. He turned to see Sansa standing next to what seemed to be a model. 

 

“Marge, let’s go back to the waiting room. This is rude.” Sansa rang her hands together, obviously embarrassed. 

 

Sandor stood, looking at the woman next to Sansa. Her brown hair was tossed into a braid that hung over her shoulder. Her height, even though she was in heels, was slightly shorter than Sansa. She wore a dress that accented every curve on her body. When he got to her eyes, they were glued to Bronn. When he coughed, she looked up at him.

 

“You’re Sandor?” Her eyes gleamed as she smirked. Sansa broke off from her, and started walking towards the bed, her eyes set on Bronn’s bandages.

 

“I am.” He glanced over at Sansa. 

 

“Okay, I’m Marge. I’m sure you’ve heard about me.” She looked at the bed where Bronn was laying down, enjoying his pudding, “And you must be Bronn?” 

 

Bronn looked up, and smiled at the women, “Hello there, ladies.” 

 

Sansa looked over Bronn as if he might break, “How are you doing?” 

 

“Oh, he’s fine, Sansa.” Marge looked at him again, and smirked, “You have some pudding on your nose.” 

 

“I’m just lovely Sansa,” He laughed as he wiped pudding off his nose. “And you,” he pointed to Marge with his club, “Who are you?” 

 

“Margaery Tyrell,” She stood behind Sansa, and smiled. Sansa looked back at her, and noticed that smile. 

 

“Marge,” She whispered harshly, “He’s in the hospital.” 

 

“I can see that.” 

 

“Stop talking about me, and start talking to me.” Bronn sat up a little straighter, drawing a chuckle from both Sandor and Gendry. 

 

A nurse popped her head in, “Visiting hours are done in five minutes, please start saying goodbye.” 

 

Margaery took the seat that Sandor had been sitting in, “I can stay here for the night, and make sure he’s okay.” 

 

“The bloody bastard is fine.” Gendry said with a pout. Obvious disappointment was plastered all over his face; he wanted Margaery’s attention. 

 

“Marge, you heard the nurse.” Sansa glanced over at Sandor, and stepped closer. 

 

“I heard her,” Marge smirked at Sansa, and let her hair out of her intricate braid. “So you should say goodnight.” 

 

*** 

 

“He didn’t seem to be doing so bad, I’m sure he’ll be back to his normal self in no time.” Sansa’s mouth kept moving ever since they left the damned hospital room. 

 

Sandor knew she chatted when she was nervous, but he needed silence. He had to think through everything now. What was he going to do? How is he supposed to do any of this without Bronn? For a month? He couldn’t. It was that simple. He couldn’t. 

 

They made it to the truck, and Sansa unlocked it, trying to give Sandor a reassuring smile. He ignored her. 

 

“Sandor? Do you need me to shut up?” Sansa whispered as they sat in the truck. She hadn’t turned it on yet, but her hands were on the wheel. 

 

“Yes,” was all he said. 

 

“Okay,” she turned on the truck, and the only noise was that of vehicle and the city around them. 

 

They were almost back to their apartments when the silence seemed to be crushing him. His thoughts were rampant in his head, though he knew everything was fine, Bronn was fine, he couldn’t believe it. 

 

“Sansa,” He whispered before he could stop himself. It was low enough to where he was convinced she couldn’t hear him. But of course she could, in this silence he could hear her heart. 

 

“Yes?” She glanced over at him.

 

“Can you talk to me?” He watched turn on the blinker to their road with fluid movements. Her small naked hands looked out of place compared with the large wheel of the truck.

 

The corners of her lips turned slightly, “I can, what do you want to talk about?” 

 

“I don’t know, just speak to me. Your voice is calming.” Sandor closed his eyes, and leaned his head back. 

 

“Well, I suppose I could tell you that you handled that whole situation very well. You usually have a very bad temper, but you controlled it well. Bronn is very lucky to have you as a friend. I’m very lucky to have you.” 

  
Sandor opened his eyes, and looked over at her. She pulled into his parking spot, turned off the truck, and held the keys out to him. She smiled, and he swore, if it were possible, that he fell even more in love with her.


	24. Worth the Wait

“Welcome back, Ms. Stark.” Myranda walked briskly along side Sansa as she made her way to her office. 

 

“Thank you, Myranda. Did everything go alright while I was gone?” Sansa’s bounced as she stepped into her office. 

 

“Yes; the interns have been finishing their assignments. Ms Tyrell took on the projects that we couldn’t handle. We had a few unexpected visitors, but we took care of that.” Myranda bit her tongue on the last part.

 

“A few? Or just one, repeatedly?” Sansa kept her face neutral, but she tapped her desk as she read messages. 

 

“Just one, a few times. Nothing we couldn’t handle. It was probably best that you were out of town.” 

 

“What did you end up doing with the flowers then?” Sansa touched the end of her lilac colored blazer, pressing the fabric between her fingers. 

 

“They’re gone, Ms Stark. Should we go to Ms Tyrell’s office for the round of meetings or do you want to go alone?” 

 

“I can go by myself. Make sure to have this week’s schedule on my desk by noon, before you head out to lunch this time.” 

 

“Of course, Ms Stark.” Myranda let herself out of the room without another word.

 

Sansa pushed her hands against her legs, the black fabric was stretched tight against her skin. She hated wearing pants. Her feet hurt already, and she hadn’t even been wearing the heels for more than two hours. 

 

_ Maybe it was good she didn’t tell me more about Joff. I don’t want to hear it. Do I? I don’t know.  _

 

A chirp came from her pocket. Sansa dug her phone out to see a message from Marge. 

 

Silently, Sansa grabbed her purse, and an assortment of folders from her desk. 

 

Moments later, armed with a coffee that Myranda handed her, Sansa walked into Marge’s office. 

 

Margaery was talking into her phone with her bitchiest work voice. Things did not seem to be going her way. 

 

“No, tell them they have me to answer to. This cannot happen before the eighth. It won’t happen. Jerry, listen, I like you. I think you’re good at your job, but if you can’t handle a simple task, you will be fired. No, don’t tell me how to do my job. I could do your job in my sleep, and I will if I have to.” 

 

She slammed the phone onto the receiver and sighed, then smiled. “Gods, I love it when people are assholes. I never get to be an asshole.” 

 

Sansa sat on the couch of Marge’s office, and let feet rest on the coffee table. 

 

“Sansa Stark, are you wearing pants?” Marge’s mouth was agape.

 

“I am, and also heels. I hate myself.” Sansa breathed out. 

 

“You look so fucking hot. Did Sandor see you this morning?” 

 

“I don’t think so.” Undoing the button of her pants, Sansa breathed fully. “That’s better.” 

 

“So hot. What do you mean you don’t think so? Haven’t you seen each other at all since Friday or whatever? What happened after you left the hospital?” 

 

“No, what happened to you? Bronn? Really?” Sansa sat up a little straighter, and cocked an eyebrow. 

 

“What? He’s cute, and he was just eating his pudding cup like a child, and it was adorable. Really adorable.” Margaery shrugged her shoulders, and plopped onto the couch next Sansa. She kicked off her heels, and curled her legs under her body. 

 

“He was recovering from a serious injury and you pounced on him like a vulture.” 

 

“I didn’t do any pouncing! I just slid in where him and I could be alone.” 

 

“Please tell me you didn’t have sex with him in the hospital?” 

 

“Of course not! I have some sort of standards don’t I? But we are seeing each other this weekend,” Marge raised her eyebrows, and smiled devilishly. 

 

“He doesn’t seem like your type.” Sansa said quietly. 

 

“Exactly. That’s what I like. Just like Sandor isn’t your type. Now, stop talking about me, and talk about your date, and why Sandor didn’t see you killing it this morning.” Marge turned her body so it was completely facing Sansa. 

 

Just as Sansa opened her mouth to speak, Marge’s assistant walked in, “Ms. Tyrell, phone call line two.” 

 

“Not now.” Marge and Sansa said together. 

 

Margaery turned back to Sansa, “Speak.” 

 

“Well, you know. The date was going really well. Really, really well. We walked around the city, went to his favorite bar, had drinks out on a terrace that overlooked the whole city. We were going back to my place. But the elevator ride, oh gods, the elevator ride…” 

 

“Oh gods, Sansa! Did you do it in the elevator?” Marge squealed in delight. 

 

“No, this old couple got in on a floor. But we got into my place, and we kissing so much, I was surprised I could still breathe. His body is… his body is… I don’t know. It’s not perfect, it’s scarred and bruised, but it felt right underneath my hands, you know?” 

 

Margaery nodded, her eyes not leaving Sansa’s face. 

 

“He pushed me up onto the island, and it was as if the world didn’t exist. My clothes were burning my skin just my touch, so we ripped them off. Then his phone rang.” 

 

“And you got the call?” Marge’s eyes narrowed slightly. 

 

“Yeah, and suddenly we completely forgot what we were doing, and I was pushing myself to go with him, even though he didn’t want me there. I couldn’t just let him go by himself, I mean, Bronn’s his best friend.” 

 

“You’re feeling guilty about going with?” She scrunched her eyebrows together. 

 

“No, well, yes, no, maybe. I don’t know. I could tell he didn’t want me to go, but he also looked relieved that I came with. Then in the car on the way home, I asked him if I needed to stop talking, because you know, I tend to just keep talking and talking when I’m nervous, so I asked, and he said yes.” 

 

“Oh,” Marge’s lips formed a perfect O. 

 

“But then, after insufferable silence, he asked me to talk to him again. He said my voice calmed him down.” 

 

“I’m trying to see the problem here,”

 

Sansa leaned her head back, and stared at the ceiling. “I know. There isn’t, but we barely talked since then. He barely makes direct eye contact. I’ll be looking straight ahead, and I’ll feel his eyes on me, and then I’ll glance over, and he’s suddenly looking in the other direction. He keeps looking at me like he wants to say something. I just want to know what it is.” 

 

Marge stood up, stretched her legs, “I have a very drastic idea, but I need you to be ready, and prepare yourself. Ready?” Sansa nodded, Marge grabbed by the shoulders, “Ask him.” 

 

“It’s not that simple.” Sansa stood too, and buttoned her pants. 

 

“Yes it is.” 

 

“No,”

 

“Yes,” 

 

“No, it isn’t! I’m afraid I’ll mess it up. He’s different. He’s… I don’t want to move too fast or not fast enough. We have to go to the meeting.” 

 

“You can’t brush this off, that easily.” Margaery shouted to her as she walked out of the office. 

 

\--

 

“Hold that piece up, then place screws on the opposite side. Seven hells, why the fuck did I hire you?” Sandor scowled at the young guy who looked like he could shit his pants at anytime. 

 

“Give them a break, mate.” Gendry rolled up behind Sandor on his wheelchair. 

 

“Giving people breaks is how people get hurt, Waters. If you think I’m going to let that happen again, you’re mental.” Sandor looked through his clipboard, and signed a few of them and thrusted them towards Gendry. 

 

“Where do you want these?” 

 

“Put them on the basket on the top right corner of my desk, and if you put them in the wrong one, I will break your legs.” 

 

“Already done, mate.” Gendry laughed as Sandor flicked him off. 

 

Sandor walked through the site. It wasn’t a hard job, but he couldn’t take any chances. Not since Bronn. His workers were scared shitless about everything, so they kept making stupid mistakes. 

 

“Don’t you dare move that wiring.” Sandor called over to a group of men. On the street, he saw a flash of ginger hair, and whipped his head around to see if it was Sansa. But it was only a trick of his mind. 

 

“That looks like a man in love.” Bronn’s voice sounded behind Sandor. 

 

Sandor looked over at the bastard and smiled, “Bronn, you bloody bastard, what in the seven hells are you doing here?” 

 

“Checking on your sanity, nothing more. Let’s go to the trailer.” Bronn’s hand was still bandaged, but he was walking with very little limp. 

 

In the trailer, Bronn took a seat on the old deformed couch, and Sandor sat at the temporary desk that held all his papers. 

 

“Sandor, I gotta ask you something.” 

 

Sandor raised an eyebrow as he slipped on his reading glasses to look through reports, “What?” 

 

“You know Margaery?” 

 

“Sansa’s best friend?” Sandor still didn’t look up, but his throat tightened at her name. 

 

“Yeah, well her and I have a date this weekend, and I just wanted to let you know.” Bronn nodded, and smiled. Pleased with himself and how this went. 

 

“With Sansa?” Sandor looked up, and his face was both angry and confused. 

 

“No, no no no. No. Marge.” 

 

Oh,” Sandor loosened his grip on his paper. 

 

“You doing alright?” Bronn raised his brow. 

 

“Fine, why?” 

 

“For one thing, you just thought I was going to go on a date with Sansa. Not that I wouldn’t mind, that girl is gorgeous ten ways to Sunday, but it’s Marge that catches my eye.” 

 

“I’m fine.” Sandor stood, and started chewing at the inside of his cheek. “I’m fucking things up with her.” 

 

“How in the bloody hell are you doing that? It’s been less than a week.” Bronn grabbed a water from the mini fridge and looked up at Sandr. 

 

“I can’t talk to her, ever since the hospital I can’t talk to her. I think…” Sandor trailed off. He ran his hand through his hair, and felt it land at the base of his neck.

 

“Think what?” 

 

“I don’t know.” Sandor crashed onto the chair. “I don’t fucking know. I keep looking at her, ready to say something, and she looked at me, and my body ceases. I can’t function. I can’t fucking deal with this.” 

 

“Why can’t you talk to her?” Bronn looked confused. 

 

“I don’t fucking know.” 

 

“What do you want to say to her?” 

 

“I don’t know.” 

 

“Liar.” 

 

“What?” Sandor looked up, and glared at Bronn. 

 

“I think you’re being craven. A fucking coward, but that’s not my business.” 

 

“You’re right, it’s not.” Sandor spun in the chair a few times, “but you may be right.” 

 

***

 

“Have a nice evening, Ms Stark.” Myranda called from her desk as Sansa walked out of her office, locking it behind her. 

 

“You too, Myranda. Please try to get out of here before ten. It’s already,” Sansa checked her watch, “oh boy, nine thirty. Myranda, go home.” 

 

“Yes, Ms Stark.” Myranda smiled. 

 

Sansa drove through the near empty streets. The street lamps casted oblong shadows across the sidewalks. 

 

As she pulled into her parking spot, Sansa yawned loudly. Her feet were pinched in these shoes, and as she stepped out of her car. She limped to the elevator, with piles of files practically spilling over her arms. 

 

The elevator opened, and Sansa stepped in, and almost immediately dropped her papers. 

 

“Great,” she muttered to herself. She stooped down to grab her papers. She held them against her chest, and the elevator dinged at her floor. 

 

“Sansa?” Sandor stood outside the elevator, and stared at her. 

 

“Oh, hi Sandor.” Sansa smiled up at him. 

 

He looked as if he were about to say something, but he shut his mouth again. 

 

“Where are you headed?” Sansa looked Sandor up and down, dark wash jeans with a plain black long sleeve, with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

 

“I was going to go get Chinese. I knocked on your door, but you didn’t answer.” Sandor stepped into the elevator as Sansa stepped out. 

 

“I was at work,” Sansa smiled, trying to keep the papers in her hands.  _ Why is he acting like this? _

 

“I got that, now.” He smiled, and looked away. “Do you want to come with?” 

 

He smacked his hand against the elevator doors to keep from closing. 

 

Sansa looked at him, “Sure, just wait for me to put these in my apartment. 

 

He followed her to her apartment door, and she struggled with the papers against her chest as she opened her door. The papers fell again, scattering across her kitchen floor. 

 

“Shoot,” 

 

“Here, let me help.” Sandor bent down, and helped her pick up papers. She looked up and his face was inches from hers. 

 

She leaned back, and blew out a breath. “Sandor, look at me.” 

 

“What?” 

 

“Sandor, you haven’t talked to me since we went to the hospital for Bronn. Everything was fine. The whole week was fine, for the most part. Sandor, what did I do? You won’t even look at me.” 

 

“Sansa, I... “ Sandor looked away from her, and he wanted to vomit. What kind of man was he? He couldn’t look at her. He should just tell her.  _ I love you. I love you, Sansa. I can’t look at you because I’m afraid I’ll say something to mess it up. It’s not you. I want to love you.  _

 

“If you can’t talk to me why are you here?” Sansa stood. Her feet were killing her. 

 

“I can talk. I can talk, Sansa. I just don’t know what to say. I… I have things I want to say, but I can’t say them yet. Please, please believe me as I say this. I want to say everything, but I can’t. I just can’t. That’s why I’ve been avoiding you. I look at you, and I freeze. I’m stupid, I’m sorry.” 

 

He stood up to leave, and Sansa stood, dumbfounded. “What does that even mean?” 

 

“I don’t know, Sansa. I don’t know what to say to you. You’re not disgusted by me, and you go with me when I need help. How am I supposed to act around you?” 

 

“Like a person, Sandor. Now, look at me. You can tell me what you want, when you want. But don’t you dare ignore me, and make me think I did something wrong. I don’t deserve that.” 

 

“No, no you don’t. I’m sorry, Sansa. I am so sorry. I didn’t mean, I never meant-” 

 

His words cut off by her lips on his. She knocked the air out of him. 

 

Between kisses, Sansa breathed out, “Don’t. Ever. Do. That. Again.” 

 

She backed him against her door, her hands running through his hair. She jumped, and linked her legs around his waist, mirroring their movements of the weekend before. She tightened against him, and he moved towards the couch. They fell in unison. 

 

She ripped off her blazer, and tossed it across the room. She dragged his shirt up, and revealed his chest. 

 

As she ran her hands down his chest, she looked up at him, “Don’t ignore me, ever again.” 

 

“Yes, Sansa. Anything for you. Anything.” He whispered against her skin. Her unbuttoned her blouse as he kissed her clavicle, then her chest, the valley between her breasts, then her belly button. Goose prickles appeared across her skin; shivers involuntarily coursed through her body. 

 

Her hands slid up and down his arms, and she kicked off her damned heels. He reached down and undid the button of her pants, and she suddenly felt as if she could breathe. 

 

She pushed him up, and they switch positions. She straddled him across his lap, pressing down on him. He let out a groan, and she smiled. Slipping off her blouse, and reaching back to unclip her bra, she felt Sandor practically growl against her body. 

 

“Sansa,” he whispered, his hands laid flat against her stomach, pressing her closer against his body. 

 

“We have been interrupted too many times before,” Sansa breathed. She stood, and ripped her pants off. Sandor looked at the impressions the pants left upon her skin.  _ She is art. _

 

He stood and took her into his arms. He kissed her cheeks, her neck, and ran his hands through her hair. Her hands reached for the waistband of jeans. 

 

“Sandor, please, my room. Now.” She pushed his jeans down, and took his hand. He stepped out of his pants. 

 

“As my lady commands.” He picked her up, and together they fell onto her bed. 

 

She couldn’t keep her hands still. She wanted to touch every inch of his body, as did he hers. She felt him press against her, and she never wanted anything so much in her life. As their bodies moved together, everything was harmonious. Every movement of Sansa’s body moved with Sandor’s. 

 

“Sandor,” Sansa whispered as they came together. 

 

“Sansa, you’re absolutely perfect.” He breathed into her hair. He reached for her hand, and gripped it fiercely. 

 

They continued to move together, so much so that even their breath came out together. Her legs tightened against him, and entire world began to feel dizzy. 

 

Suddenly, her breath came out in a rush, a rush as if she had been waiting a lifetime for this moment. She had never felt anything like this before. “Sandor, oh gods, Sandor. You make me feel…. gods, don’t stop.” 

 

Sandor smiled against her skin. His breath began to quicken, and he felt release. Her legs tightened around him once more, then slackened. 

 

Sansa practically purred, as she curled into Sandor’s body. “Worth the wait.” 

 

He ran his fingers through her hair, as he looked up into the dark ceiling. After a few moments, Sansa’s breathing slowed and deepened. 

 

Sandor took a breath, and trailed his hand down her back.

  
“I love you,” he whispered. A weight had lifted off his chest, and he smiled into dark.


	25. Am I interrupting Something?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that moment when you're at work but all you're doing is writing sansan. 
> 
> this one actually came out a bit quicker than I was intending. and i might actually know how to end it! 
> 
> thank you all for reading, I greatly appreciate everyone that has bee reading this from the beginning! thank you!

A loud slam jerked Sansa awake. Slowly, she opened her eyes to see a naked Sandor under her. Her arm and half her torso was draped across his chest. His eyes were still closed, and his breathing was deep and even. She looked down to see the legs tangled out from under the sheet that was covering their lower halves. 

 

Trying not to wake him, she pushed off him and rolled onto her back. She stared at the ceiling, remembering last night. A smile spread across her face, and looked over at Sandor who was still deeply asleep. His hand was laying on her stomach; she watched it rise and fall to the rhythm of her breathing. 

 

Heavy footsteps sounded outside of Sansa’s apartment causing Sandor to stir. He didn’t wake up, just pulled Sansa closer. Sansa smiled, and snuggled into him.

 

_ Gods, I have never been this happy. I love him so much .  _

 

“I love you,” she whispered before she could stop herself. Her hand went to her mouth, and she stared at him to see if he was awake.  _ If he is, he’ll run screaming from me,  _ she thought.  _ There is no way he wants to hear I love him.  _

 

Her eyes didn’t leave his face as he continued to sleep. She traced his scars in her mind; she had barely looked at them. She never saw them, not the way he did. He would absent-mindedly trace them when he was deep in thought, or he avoided looking at his reflection at all times. But he wasn’t ugly, not in her eyes. In her eyes, he was art. 

 

_ He doesn’t know how much of his beauty is in his actions,  _ she thought.  _ His eyes are so beautiful when he smiles at me. The crinkles in the corner of his eyes aren’t hideous, they tell a story. When he laughs, he throws his whole head back, and I can’t help but fall in love with him. When he holds open a door for me, and gives me a smirk as I walk through, I can’t help but fall in love.  _

 

Sansa rubbed one of her eyes, and saw that her was covered in make-up. Quickly, she grabbed her phone and looked into the screen, and saw her makeup smeared throughout the night, and she now resembled a raccoon. Her hair was knotted around her head. 

 

“Oh no,” Sansa whispered, and jumped out of bed, racing to the bathroom. 

 

Sandor groggily reached across the bed for her, but didn’t feel her. He opened his eyes in time to see her close the door to the bathroom. He looked around the room to see the sun leaking through the cracks of the curtains. The sheets were knotted around his waist, and the rest of his body was bare. 

 

Stretching out his limbs, Sandor sat up. He looked around for his clothes, but couldn’t see them. As he remembered the night before, he grinned. His clothes were in the living room. Flashes of his body on her made him smirk.  _ Gods, I love her. The feel of her hands on my body, or better yet, my hands on her body. Gods, I can die today and be content.  _

 

Sandor stood, stark naked in Sansa’s bedroom, stretching his arms out in front his body. He repressed a loud groan, fear of startling Sansa in the bathroom. He padded across the room, through the hallway to the living room to pick up his underwear. As he stood up, he looked and saw a wide-eyed Sansa staring at him with her mouth agape. 

 

She stuttered out a few words, “You’re- you’re nak-k-ked.” 

 

She held a towel across her chest, her knuckles white. Her eyes were glued to his chest, though he could tell she was trying hard not to look just a little more south. She started to bite her lip, but caught herself. 

 

“Aye, and you’re not much better.” 

 

“Why are you naked in my living room?” Sansa shook her head, and her cheeks reddened deeply, the blush traveled down her neck, and to the top of her breasts. He had to breathe in deeply. 

 

“Are you embarrassed, little bird? You saw all of this last night, and I saw all of that last night.” He motioned to her body. He tried very hard not to think about what was under that thin towel, as he was very exposed. 

 

“I’m well aware of that, Clegane.” Sansa looked at the ceiling now. 

 

“I would hope so, because that may be the best I ever had.” Sandor smirked, and bent down to put his underwear on. 

 

Something changed in Sansa’s eyes, “Is that so? Well, then maybe you’d be willing to take this towel for me. It’s so heavy, and I don’t think I can handle it anymore.” 

 

Sandor’s breath hitched, and he watched as she walked away, slowly dropping the towel inch by inch. “Seven hells, don’t you have to work?” 

 

“Oh, I guess we could go to work, or we could go to my bedroom.” She dropped the towel, and smiled a temptress’ smile. 

 

“The things you do to me, Sansa Stark.” 

 

***

 

Hours later, Sansa walked swiftly  into her office to see Margaery sitting at her desk.

 

She was twirling a pen between her perfectly manicured fingers, “Well, don’t you look… fucked.” 

 

Sansa dropped her bag and gaped at her best friend, “Margaery!” 

 

“You so did the do! And you didn’t even call me! I thought we were friends.” Her face filled with fake hurt as she glanced Sansa up and down. 

 

“Why are we friends?” Sansa hung up her coat, and looked over at Marge, “What are you doing in here?” 

 

“If you didn’t notice, you’re two hours late. I had to cover for you, because that’s how much I love you. Now, you have to pay me back by telling me every dirty little thing about last night. How are his hands? I’m sure you put those strong, long fingers to good use, and-”

 

“Okay! We’re not going to talk about this if you’re going to be disgusting.” 

 

“That bad, huh?” She searched Sansa’s face, “Or that good?” 

 

“Definitely good, great, fantastic, multiple screams of pleasure in fact.” 

 

Marge stared at Sansa before bursting into laughter, “You do not know how to talk dirty that is for sure. Was it vanilla? Or does Sansa Stark get kinky in the bedroom?” 

 

“Whips, and masks, and handcuffs.” Sansa laughed, and went to get herself a cup of coffee. Her skirt was tight around her hips, and constricted her steps as she walked, but she had barely enough time to grab her shoes by the time her and Sandor had finished for the second time. 

 

“Sansa Stark, have you ever had a proper fucking in your life?” Margaery leaned back in the chair, and cocked an eyebrow at her best friend. 

 

“If I didn’t before, now I have.” She smiled lazily, and shrugged. She was much too happy to be proper at the moment. 

 

“Wow, he’s made you into a new woman. I love it. As much as I want to keep talking about it, and trust me, I will get every single detail out of you, we have to go to like four meetings today.” 

 

Sansa breathed in, thankful for any sort of interruption, and held the door open for Marge. 

 

***

 

Sitting in the last meeting of the day was torture, that’s the only description Sansa could think of. It was by far the longest meeting of the day, lasting two hours longer than the last. Her back was cramping from sitting so long, and her legs kept falling asleep. 

 

They were people who were falling asleep themselves. Marge had to pinch the back of her hand to keep awake, and she kept making faces at Sansa whenever the speaker wasn’t looking. 

 

Sansa’s phone buzzed on her lap, and she quickly looked at it to see that both Sandor and Arya had texted her. She kept her face neutral as she looked up at the speaker who was droning on about numbers and flowers and colors. All she could think was how much she just did not care. 

 

She looked at Arya’s text first, “Going to be in town this weekend, can I stay at your place?”

 

_ What could she possibly be doing all the way down here?  _ Sansa looked up at the ceiling before answering, because there was only way she could answer, “Yeah, of course. Just text me when you’ll be here.” 

 

She placed her full attention back to the speaker for the next thirty seconds before looking at Sandor’s text message.

 

She thought for a moment, and realized that had never texted before. Before she asked him to go with her to her parents’, they had barely even spoken. A couple hushed hellos here and there, but nothing that would mean they text each other over. How times can change so fast. 

 

She looked down at her phone again, she tapped his name, and the message read, “When I’m finally out of this hell hole called work, want to grab Chinese?” 

 

She chuckled to herself, and awkwardly drew attention from coworkers to herself. She mouthed apologies to them, and started typing her reply, “Do you mean the actual food or are we going to end up in my apartment again?” 

 

His response was instantaneous. “Whatever my lady commands.” 

 

She smiled as she typed, “We could order in, and then call in sick tomorrow, and stay in bed all day long.” 

 

Marge kicked her leg under the table, and she looked up to see everyone staring at her. 

 

“Sorry,” She set her phone on the table, and blushed. 

 

Her phone buzzed against the hardwood of the table, causing a louder disturbance. She grabbed it, “Sorry, again. It’s going on silent, sorry.” 

 

The speaker rolled his eyes, and continued in the same monotone voice. 

 

Sansa sneaked a glance down at her phone to see the first line of the message, “Now all I can think are your pretty thighs wrapped…” 

 

Her face blushed again, and she looked towards Marhe who had a knowing smirk on her face. She winked at Sansa, and looked back up at the speaker, lifting her pen to take notes. 

 

Sansa dared to check the full message, as she clicked his name and the message her face turned close to the color of her hair, “Now all I can think are your pretty thighs wrapped around my head, and I’m making you writhe uncontrollably. Sansa Stark, I want you. I’ll be at your place at seven.” 

 

Sansa looked at the clock and saw that it was six now. An hour she had to sit and suffer through this meeting. 

 

As she sat, she thought of all things she and Sandor would do later that night, and just what she would wear. A small smirk played on Sansa’s mouth.

 

***

 

Sandor sat in his office, filling out mundane paperwork for what seemed like hours. His hair kept falling into his face, he knew should just go get it cut, but he didn’t have the time. So he found a stray rubber band on his desk and pulled his hair back. He wondered how Sansa dealt with her long, long hair. 

 

He thought of her hair, and smiled. He thought of her body, and he smiled. How he wanted to be on top of her body again. He pulled out his phone, and knowing that he was like a little green boy, texted her. 

 

He couldn’t help himself. He wanted to see her, and he wanted to spend time with her. Not just sex. He had never felt this before. He was sure she felt it too. He wasn’t fully awake this morning, but he thought he heard say the words. He just didn’t know. He already almost fucked things up with her enough by not being able to talk to her. She had made it clear that would never happened again, and he was fine with it. He would spend whatever time he could with her; he would even be willing to risk visiting her parents again. Not that he wanted to deal with that mess again. Especially the devil she-wolf, Sansa called a sister.

 

When his phone beeped, he dropped his pen to check it, and smiled at Sansa’s response; though she seemed prim and proper, the little bird could play dirty if she wanted.  _ If she wants to play, I’m game. _

 

He thought on this morning, and he genuinely smiled. Her skin had felt perfect on his; she must have felt the same. He couldn’t let himself think that everything he was feeling was one sided. He thought back to the car ride on the way to her parents, or the late night at the Rose Garden, or the moments when they were crushed in the closet together. He couldn’t think that he was alone in his thinking, it was impossible. 

 

His phone beeped once more, and he looked up.  _ I will play along until she feels the same. I will.  _

 

***

Sansa stood at the door of her apartment at 6:54, unlocking it quickly as possible. As she got inside, she dumped her work stuff onto the end table next to the door, and ran to the bathroom. She stripped her clothes, and stood in her bra and underwear searching through her drawers until she found her razor and cream. 

 

Sandor may have been able to go days to weeks without shaving, but she could not. Feeling her legs during the meeting reminded her of barbed wire. 

 

Spreading shaving on her legs, she swiped her razor through it as fast as she dared. She checked her phone to see the time 6:56, and she was only half done with one leg. 

 

“Crap,” she accidentally side swiped the razor, and she was bleeding on her ankle, “Every freaking time.” 

 

She rinsed that leg, and started on the new one. She repeated the process, just as a quicker speed. She was sure she was missing sections, but now was not the time for perfection. 

 

Her phone started to ring, and she let out a hiss of annoyance. She picked it up, and saw that it was Arya. She sent the call to voicemail. 6:59. 

 

She dried off her legs, and ran to her closet. She dug until she found a deep emerald coloured teddy with matching stockings. She slipped it on, and admired herself in the mirror for a few seconds, and mentally reminded herself to thank Margaery for this present from months ago. 

 

A knock sounded on her door, and Sansa debated whether or she should slip on the heels that Marge had gotten her as well as she clipped the stocking into place. 

 

Deciding not to, Sansa walked to her door, and flipped her hair up and down a few times, and pinched her cheeks a bit. She slowly opened the door to see Sandor, whose hair had been pulled back, holding a bag of Chinese food. She  _ really  _ liked his hair like that. He blinked a few times, and his mouth dropped open as he soaked her in. He tried to get words out, but only strangled noises came out. 

 

A smile spread across Sansa’s face, and quirked her head to the side. “Do you like it?” 

 

His gaze stopped at her breasts, “Do I like it? Fuck me bloody, Sansa Stark.” 

 

She glanced down, and silently thanked push up bras far more than she had in the past. 

 

“Well, I wouldn’t say bloody, but the first part, I was hoping we could get to.” She smiled up at him, and took a step back. 

 

He finally made it past her breasts, and looked down at her long legs, “Seven hells, is that a garter?” 

 

“It is.” She played with the ends of her hair, trying not to feel awkward as he stared at her. It both made her feel powerful and weak at the same time. 

 

“You’re… what did I do to deserve such a… fuck, Stark.” He dropped the food onto the counter, and grabbed her by the waist. He kissed her neck, and her jawline. His fingers barely touched her skin as he traced the lines of her bra at the top her breasts. 

 

Her breath stuttered, and she leaned her head back to give him more of her. Her hands lay helplessly at her sides. This was exactly what she wanted all day. She wanted nothing more than to have him be with her, to touch like no had ever wanted to before. 

 

Effortlessly and without words, he picked her up, and carried her to her bedroom. He laid her on the bed, and dragged his hands down her body, and he let out soft groans as kissed the crevice between her breasts. He gently pulled lace fabric apart to reveal her soft porcelain skin.

 

Sansa gripped the blankets in her fists, and moaned as he kissed her skin. His beard tickled her stomach, and she let out a soft giggle. 

 

“I still want your pretty thighs wrapped around my head, little bird. I want you sing all those songs for me.” His hand circled around her inner thigh. Sansa’s breathing stopped for a moment. 

 

His hand was then cupping her, and he whispered into her ear all he wanted to do with her and to her. She felt as if she floating. He hands found his shirt, and pulled it off him. She then reached in between them, and undid the buttons of his pants. 

 

“Anxious, little bird?” He asked as he stripped off his pants, and laid back next to her. He kissed her navel, and his thumbs hooked around the waistband of her underwear, pulling them ever so slowly. 

 

Suddenly, a third voice sounded from the doorway, “Am I interrupting something?” 

 

Sandor and Sansa sat up to see Arya awkwardly wave at them. 


	26. Of Course I Love Her

Sansa froze on the bed, her corseted body on top of Sandor’s. Arya stood, staring at them, her mouth agape. It was as if time froze, and the three of them were stuck in this room. Sansa’s heart beat hard against her chest, and Sandor’s hand was frozen on her lower back, almost touching her bottom. Sansa’s face began to burn, her whole body began to burn, and she wished that she would combust, and disappear forever.

 

Arya slipped her hand into her pocket, and pulled out her phone. Sansa gasped at her.

 

“Arya!” As Sansa screamed, the flash went off, and she  immediately rolled off the bed, ripping the blanket off the bed and onto her chest. She left Sandor exposed to her little sister.

 

“Oi! Put that shit away, Clegane!” Arya covered her face, and turned around. 

 

“What in the seven hells are you doing here?” Sandor sat up, and buttoned his pants as fast as he could. 

 

Arya, still facing the wall, let out a huff of air. “I called Sansa like twenty minutes ago to let her know I was on my way, but she never answered. I figured she was still at work; it’s happened before. Can you two put some clothes on, please?” 

 

Sansa’s face burned brightly as she hid her body in the dark blanket. “Arya, get out!” 

 

“Look, I didn’t mean to barge in on you two getting your freak on. It was a mistake.” Arya made no move towards the door. 

 

“Yes, whatever. Get out!” Sansa, hiding her body behind her bed, threw a pillow in her direction. 

 

“Alright, alright. I’ll go take a walk so you two can finish… whatever it is that you were doing.” Arya both smirked and gagged as she opened the door, and slammed it shut. 

 

Sansa collapsed onto the ground, and just let out an inhuman sound as Sandor just burst out laughing. 

 

“Sansa, breathe.” Sandor laughed. 

 

“That has to be the most embarrassing that has ever happened,” she sat up, peering over the edge of the bed. Sandor laid carelessly on his back, looking up at the ceiling. “Are you not embarrassed?” 

 

“I’m mortified, but you’re so damn cute when you’re embarrassed,” Sandor turned onto his side, and gazed at Sansa with amusement in his eyes. They were crinkled in the corners, a hint of a smile played on his lips.

 

“Oh my… I can’t believe that just happened.” Sansa stood up, and let the blanket fall onto the ground. She stood by the bed, and began to undo the buttons done the front, intending to change into pajamas, and also hoping to forget this whole night. 

 

“Sansa, what are you doing?” Sandor sat up near the front of the bed, watching her with dark eyes. 

 

Sansa glanced at him, “Is there something on your mind?” 

 

His voice turned to gravel, “You can just do what you’re doing.” 

 

His eyes were trained on her delicate hands. She undid one button, and then another. Her cream skin opened up to him; the soft curve of her breasts were practically begging him to touch them. 

 

“Sandor, I don’t think…” She trailed off as he got onto his knees, and put his hands on her hips. One of the pins on her stockings came undone, and her legs was exposed to him. 

 

“You don’t think we should what?” He whispered into her ear. Sandor leaned his head down into the crook of her neck, and placed three soft kisses on her neck. 

 

“I don’t… Arya was just here. She might come back.” Her hands played with the same button as she melted into his touch. 

 

“She won’t be coming back anytime soon.” He took advantage of her fumbling hands, and undid the next button. 

 

“Sandor,” She let her hands fall to her side. 

 

“Sansa, I’ll beg for you.” He bent down, and kissed her collarbone, and then the curve of her breast, and then the small crevice between her breasts. She let out a soft sigh. 

 

“Oh, you do that so well.” 

 

He smiled as he gently undid the last button, and pushed it off her perfect skin. He back away for one moment, just to look at her. Her smooth white skin was direct contrast to his rough tanned skin. She looked like a Greek statue, standing there, all bared to him. Her breasts prickled, now exposed to the cool air, and her arms touched her body lightly, starting to feel uncomfortable in his gaze. Her hair tumbled down her back, showing the downward slope of her shoulders. 

 

“Sandor?” Sansa’s drugged voice drew him out of his trance. 

 

“Yes?” He looked up at her doe-like eyes. 

 

“Are you going to stare at me all night, or are you going to touch me?” She reached her hand out, and took his hand. Biting her lip, as if unsure, brought her face closer. 

 

He wanted nothing more than to say it right then and there.  _ I love you. _

 

“I will touch you whenever you want me to.” His voice was much lower than Sansa had ever heard it. 

 

“I want you to touch me.”  _ Always. _

 

***

 

“How much sex did you have last night?” Arya asked as she loudly sipped her overpriced coffee. 

 

“Arya, can we just not bring that up, ever?” Sansa laid her head down on the table, trying to get the image of Arya barging in on her and Sandor. It was engraved in her brain; she reddened at the thought. 

 

The cafe bustled around them; people talked loudly, and others sat silently by themselves. The baristas worked faster than Sansa’s eye could see. The beautiful day drew people out of their homes and their offices for lunch, which was what Sansa and Arya had done. 

 

Arya never came back to Sansa’s apartment after the unlikely encounter, and Sansa hoped she would forget about it, but of course, Arya would  _ never  _ let something like that go. How could she? It was most scandalous thing she had ever caught Sansa in. 

 

“How would poor mother dear feel if she had caught you having that kind of sex with your fiance?” Arya laughed as she spoke. Sansa raised her head, and grabbed her fork. She violently stabbed her garden salad, somewhat wishing it was Arya’s hand. 

 

“Mom put Sandor and I in the same room, remember? It’s like she wants me to have premarital sex.” Sansa took a big bite of her salad, and looked up at Arya. 

 

“You realize I said fiance, right?” Arya took a bite out of her chicken wrap, and rolled her eyes back at its delicious taste. Ranch fell onto her chin, and licked off with her tongue. Sansa rolled her eyes at her impoliteness, but let it pass.

 

“Well…” Sansa sat back and thought for a moment, “Mom does think Sandor and I are engaged. I don’t know how to tell her otherwise…” 

 

“Just tell her you don’t want to get married right now. Maybe that would get her off your back, at least for a while." Arya shrugged her shoulders. 

 

"I already tried that, and she said that was unacceptable. Once you’re engaged, you’re engaged. I'm hoping she just kind of forgets that we are supposed to be engaged." Sansa looked down at her empty ring finger, and thought Marge's ring sitting in the pocket of her purse. Why hadn't she given it back?

 

Arya snorted loudly, "Whatever, mom was already picking out China patterns, and figuring out the color scheme of your outdoor wedding."

 

"Well, she at least thinks I want to have a long engagement. I don't think she's expecting two years or more, but we'll cross that bridge when we get to it." 

 

"Did I just hear you right?" Arya dropped her chicken wrap, and gaped at her with her mouth full of chicken. 

 

Sansa glanced up from her salad, "What?"

 

"Do you really think that you and Sandor will get married?" 

 

"Well, I, I haven't really thought about it. Things are going... well, right now. I'd like to think that we'll keep moving forward." Sansa tucked her hair behind her ear. She really hadn't thought about the future with Sandor; they were just having fun, weren't they? But she knew her mind had started wandering, when she knew it shouldn’t have. They only just started dating a couple of weeks ago. There was no way they were ready for marriage, but she couldn’t break up with him just because they were supposed to be getting married. This whole thing was a new level of complicated.

 

"You better be prepared for the annual Labor Day picnic. Mom was talking about it with dad." Arya leaned back. Something caught her eye behind Sansa's back. Arya sat up just a little bit straighter, and her eyes softened as she trained back on Sansa. 

 

Sansa cocked her eyebrow at Arya, and turned her head towards the door. Wheeling towards the nearest open table, Sansa saw Gendry with his cocky smile. 

 

"Something catch your eye, Arya?" Sansa bit her lip, and smirk at her younger sister. 

 

“What?” Arya took her eyes off Gendry. “No.” 

 

Sansa turned around in her seat, and coughed loudly, “Hi Gendry!” 

 

Gendry cocked his head to the side, and his eyes lit up when he saw Sansa sitting just a few tables away from him, "Hey, Sansa! How's it going?"

 

"It's going well, just having lunch with my sister here." Sansa leaned to the side so she wasn't blocking Arya. Arya stared at Sansa with daggers in her eyes, but gave a small wave to Gendry. 

 

Gendry's face changed while he looked over at Arya. He started maneuvering his wheelchair to get over to them. 

 

"Oh! Gendry, no!" Sansa protested, but Gendry ignored her as he got closer to their table. 

 

"And what are you beautiful ladies discussing this lovely afternoon?" He said after a heavy sigh from the exertion. 

 

"About Sandor." Arya blurted out before she could stop herself. Sansa blushed. 

 

"Ah, the big bossman. Are you talking of his terrors? His face? His anger?"

 

"Or how he was on top of my sister last night." Arya laughed out, a bit higher than she normally did. Her smile shone brilliantly, only one dimple on her face.  

 

Sansa jerked her foot under the table; Arya yelped. Gendry let out a howl of laughter. 

 

"Sansa and Sandor doing the nasty. Good for you two!" Gendry leaned in closer to Arya, and loudly whispered, "I figured something was going in between those two, they were wound up tighter than a jack-in-the-box at the hospital." 

 

"You should have seen them at our cabin; absolutely disgusting." Arya smiled again, but dropped her eyes when Gendry glanced over at her, his gaze staying just a couple moments too long. 

 

"I am sitting right here." Sansa leaned back and crossed her arms. She watched her sister and Gendry closely. Arya never acted like this; it was nice to see that she could have actual feelings, instead continually trying to ruin Sansa’s life. 

 

"Oh, yes you are." Gendry bit his lip, "So if you excuse us, we won't talk about you anymore. Arya, how long are you in town? I'm not the best tour guide right now, but if you want, I get the best parking right now." 

 

***

 

Sansa walked into her office to see Marge holding a giant vase of flowers.

 

“Sansa!” Marge squealed, “Look at what Bronn sent me. Aren’t they gorgeous?” 

 

The flowers flooded onto Sansa’s desk, the bright blues and pink made her eyes hurt. Sansa couldn’t help but feel just a bit jealous. 

 

“They’re gorgeous, Marge. What was the occasion?” Sansa sat down at her desk, and she couldn’t see above the flowers. She leaned to the side so she could make eye contact with Marge. 

 

“He left a card saying he couldn’t wait to see me on Friday, so he thought he might as well make me smile. Isn’t that sweet?” Margaery flopped onto the couch, and let out a dreamy sigh. 

 

“That is the sweetest. I think you found a keeper. How many dates have you been on?” Sansa opened up some folders, and started sifting through some files that the interns left her. 

 

“In the past two weeks, about 6. But how many non-dates you ask?” 

 

“I didn’t.” Sansa replied without looking up.

 

“Every night.” 

 

Sansa looked up, “Every night? But I thought he sent you the flowers because he wasn’t going to see you until Friday?” 

 

“He isn’t - this four day stretch is the longest we’ve been apart. Think he’ll make it?” Marge laughed, and Sansa gasped. 

 

“I will never get over how crude you can be sometimes, Margaery Tyrell.” 

 

“Speaking of crude, your lovely sister sent me a photo last night. It was of you - and Sandor- in bed, kind of. You were hiding, and he looked quite relaxed.” 

 

Sansa held her head in her hands, “Please stop talking.” 

 

“Was the corset green? Were you wearing the lingerie I got you for your birthday?” Marge got up, and sat Sansa’s lap. She held Sansa’s head in her arms, and softly started singing, “Have I ever told you, you’re my hero?” 

 

“Stop!” Sansa started laughing. “I never want to think about that again! I may never have sex again.” 

 

“Oh no, can’t have that. Sandor may die.” Marge hopped off Sansa, and straightened her dress. “How good was it?” 

 

“I’m not talking about this.” 

 

“Not talking about what?” A deep voice came the doorway. Sandor stood there, wearing a tie with his shirt sleeves rolled up to the elbows.. He had told her he had meetings all day, and that he may swing by. She had completely forgotten. 

 

“About you and-” Marge started talking, but Sansa jumped up, and bumped her hip into Marge’s.

 

‘Nothing. We were talking about nothing.” Sansa smiled at Sandor, her face still a faint red. 

 

He looked to both ladies, and nodded his head, “Alright, then.” 

 

“Well, I can tell I’m not wanted here, so I might as well get going.” She reached down onto Sansa’s desk, and lifted her vase of flowers. “Excuse me.” 

 

Sandor moved into the room, and let Marge pass.

 

“How was the meeting with…” Sansa’s mind blanked. 

 

“The zoning commissioner?” Sandor supplied. 

 

“Yeah, that!” Sansa smiled. 

 

“Boring. He just told all the stuff I already knew. What to do, what not to do. What’s allowed, and what’s not. Everything I’ve been trained to do.” Sandor walked up to Sansa, wrapped her up in his arms, and laid a soft kiss on her forehead, “What about your day? How was lunch with your sister?” 

 

“She mocked me mercilessly, but I think she made a new friend.” 

 

He pulled away to give her a quizzical look, “Who?” 

 

“Our dear friend, Mr. Waters.” 

 

“Gendry?” 

 

“The very same.” Sansa bit her lip. 

 

“Who knew the wolf bitch had feelings?” Sandor let out a bark of laughter. 

 

“Hey, that is my sister you are talking about you know.” Sansa scrunched her eyebrows together. 

 

“I know, I know.” He kissed the furrow between her eyebrows. “What are your plans for tomorrow?” 

 

“I don’t think I have any. I don’t think I need to come into the office.” Sansa turned her torso, trying to get a look at her calender, but Sandor didn’t let go of her. 

 

“Spend the day with me.” Sandor pressed into her tighter. “We haven’t seen each other properly in almost a week.” 

 

“My sister is in town.” Sansa said needlessly. 

 

“She can come if she wants, but I think she’ll be preoccupied by poor Mr. Waters.” He smiled down at her. 

 

“Well that’s the best offer anyone has made me all day.” 

 

“Perfect. I’ll pick you up at your apartment around nine tomorrow morning.” He kissed her lips gently, “Are you free to go home now, or do you have to stay and work a little while longer?” 

 

“I just got back; I’ll be for three more hours at the least. I can pick something up on the way home, if you want. Chinese?” 

 

“We still have the Chinese from last night.” He smirked down at her. Sansa laughed. 

 

“Well, I guess we’ll be eating that then.” 

 

***

 

Sandor walked into his apartment and ripped the damned tie from his neck. He always felt he was choking when he wore one. He kicked his shoes, and tossed them back to the doorway. It had been a couple days since he had slept in his own apartment; it was going to feel weird to sleep by himself. He never thought he would think that way, but here was, standing in his own apartment, feeling lonely. 

 

He had always liked his time alone. He would read, workout, or sleep. He would cook something new, and he never had to worry about somebody else eating it. He didn’t have to worry about people messing up his things, or not putting them back where they weren’t supposed to go. 

 

He remember when Sansa came to ask him to go to her parents, and she had looked at his books. One still laid on the floor where she dropped it. He hadn’t gotten around to picking it up. He walked over to it, and mindlessly started flipping through the pages. He laughed as he remembered chasing her in his apartment, around the kitchen. 

 

A knock on the door ripped him from his thoughts. Sandor set the book on the shelf. 

 

He opened the door to see Catelyn Stark. 

“Hello, Mrs Stark.” Sandor said awkwardly. “Is there anything I can help you with?” 

 

“I was hoping you would let me in.” Cat smiled with no teeth. 

 

“Of course, come in.” Sandor stepped off to the side. 

 

Cat walked in, and took survey of his apartment. “This is quite well decorated, who did you use?” 

 

Sandor cocked an eyebrow up, “I used myself.” 

 

“You decorated this? You have a nice eye.” 

 

“Thank you, Mrs. Stark.” 

 

“Please, call me Cat. You are going to be son, are you not?” She laughed with little mirth. 

 

“I-I…” Sandor froze. 

 

“Sandor?” Cat looked at him with a quizzical eyes. 

 

“Son?” 

 

“Well, you and Sansa are engaged, are you not? The next step is matrimony.”

 

“But Sansa and I are not engaged.” Sandor blurted out. 

 

“You two broke up?” 

 

“No, we’re not engaged. We’re together, but we’re not engaged.” 

 

“Oh, is this still that lovers’ spat you two had? Please, you two will get over it. Do you not love her?” Cat sat on his couch, but her tone conveyed that she was the one in control in this room. 

 

“Of course I love her.” 

 

“Then why aren’t you marrying her?” 

  
“Mom?” Sansa’s voice came from the doorway. 


End file.
